Echoes in the Fog: The Lodger Legend and Its Shadows from Hitchcock to Hangover Square
THE LODGER: A STORY OF THE LONDON FOG 1927
Alfred Hitchcock’s The Lodger: A Story of the London Fog (1927) stands as a watershed moment in both his career and the evolution of the suspense thriller. Though it was his third feature, Hitchcock himself would later call it his “first true film,” and it’s easy to see why: here, the director’s signature obsessions—wrongly accused men, dangerous allure, and the shadow of violence—emerge fully formed, set against a fog-choked London that feels both timeless and distinctly modern.
Drawing from Marie Belloc Lowndes’s 1913 novel and its stage adaptation, the film takes its inspiration from the Jack the Ripper murders, but is less interested in true crime in reality it is more about the feverish paranoia that settles over a city when evil seems to be lurking just out of sight, prowling the streets.
The story itself is deceptively simple: a serial killer known as “The Avenger” is targeting blonde women, sending London into a state of panic. Right in the middle of all this, the mysterious lodger—played by Ivor Novello—shows up and rents a room from the Buntings just as the murders edge closer to home.
Novello is both magnetic and ambiguous; his haunted eyes and secretive ways make him suspicious and yet strangely fascinating, especially to the Buntings’ daughter Daisy (June Tripp).
As Daisy’s policeman boyfriend Joe (Malcolm Keen) gets more jealous and the Buntings’ suspicions grow, the film really tightens the noose of doubt around their lodger, leading to a dramatic sequence of accusation, pursuit, and mob justice before the truth finally comes to light.
Hitchcock’s direction, deeply influenced by the German Expressionist cinema he encountered in Berlin, is on full display. Working with cinematographer Gaetano di Ventimiglia, he floods the film with mist, shadow, and oblique camera angles, creating a visual world where fear and uncertainty seep into every frame.
The film’s look is both expressionist and modern: glass floors allow us to see the lodger’s anxious pacing from below, staircases become vertiginous chasms, and the fog itself seems to swallow up the city. The rhythm of the editing—dynamic, almost musical—heightens the sense of unease, while the absence of spoken dialogue only sharpens Hitchcock’s focus on pure visual storytelling.
The cast brings a strange, almost theatrical intensity to the film. Marie Ault and Arthur Chesney are quietly compelling as the Buntings, their growing fear for Daisy palpable in every gesture. June Tripp’s Daisy is luminous and vulnerable, while Malcolm Keen’s Joe simmers with suspicion. But it’s Novello who dominates, his performance walking a tightrope between innocence and menace. Hitchcock’s own cameo—his first—comes early, a sly touch that would become a trademark. Historically, The Lodger arrived at a moment when British cinema was searching for its own voice, and Hitchcock’s film was immediately recognized as a leap forward. Critics hailed its technical innovation and atmospheric power, and it quickly established Hitchcock as a director of rare vision.
The film’s themes—media-fueled hysteria, the dangers of mob justice, the ambiguity of guilt—feel as relevant today as they did nearly a century ago. What lingers most, though, is the film’s atmosphere: a city shrouded in fog, where every footstep echoes with dread, and where the line between hunter and hunted is never quite clear. The Lodger is not just a story of murder, but of suspicion, desire, and the perilous search for truth in the haunting, murky shadows.
THE LODGER 1944
John Brahm’s 1944 adaptation of The Lodger stands out as one of the most atmospheric and psychologically charged takes on the Jack the Ripper legend, setting the tone for the era’s horror cinema. Drawing once again from Lowndes’s 1913 novel, the film drops us right into a foggy, gaslit London where fear and suspicion seem to hang heavy in the air.
At the center are the Bontings, a respectable couple who are struggling to make ends meet. So they decide to rent a room to the enigmatic Mr. Slade—played by Laird Cregar—a brooding man whose unsettling habits and haunted look, which bears the mark of something dark and dangerous, quickly disturb the household.
Slade, played with mesmerizing intensity by Laird Cregar, is a figure both pitiable and terrifying, his every movement weighted with obsession and barely contained madness.
As the city reels from a series of brutal murders targeting actresses, Slade becomes fixated on the Bontings’ niece Kitty Langley (Merle Oberon), a luminous music-hall performer.
Laird Cregar was a remarkably gifted American actor whose brief career left a lasting impression on classic Hollywood cinema. Known for his commanding presence and expressive performances, Cregar excelled in roles that demanded both menace and vulnerability, bringing a unique depth to villains and tortured souls alike. He rose to prominence with standout performances in films such as I Wake Up Screaming (1941), This Gun for Hire (1942), and, notably, this role as the haunted Mr. Slade in The Lodger, followed by his performance as the tragic composer George Harvey Bone in Hangover Square (1945).
Cregar’s acting was marked by a rare ability to convey complex inner turmoil—his characters often seemed caught between longing and darkness, their emotional conflict visible in every gesture and expression.
Offscreen, Laird Cregar’s life was just as complicated. He was ambitious but also very aware of how his imposing size shaped the roles he was offered, struggling with Hollywood’s expectations of their leading men. This drove him to try a risky crash diet in hopes of landing more romantic parts. Sadly, this decision contributed to his early death at only 31. Privately, his sexuality was something only close friends and colleagues knew about, and his relationships—including a notable romance with actor David Bacon—were often the subject of both gossip and tragedy.
Despite his short life, Laird Cregar’s career was filled with highlights: he was celebrated for his villainous roles, brought unexpected sympathy to his darkest characters, and was praised by contemporaries for his stage work as well as his films. His performances in The Lodger and Hangover Square remain iconic, showcasing a talent that could evoke both fear and pity, and leaving a legacy as one of Hollywood’s most memorable and enigmatic actors.
As Mr. Slade, Cregar’s performance dominates the film, imbuing Slade with a tragic depth. His physical presence—imposing yet oddly vulnerable—makes him an unforgettable figure, whose yes are constantly shifting, moving between longing and menace, as if he’s always caught between wanting and warning at the same time.
The supporting cast brings their own vivid energy: Merle Oberon’s Kitty is both glamorous and sympathetic, while George Sanders, as the suave Inspector Warwick, brings a dry wit and dogged determination to the hunt for the killer. Wonderful character actors, Cedric Hardwicke and Sara Allgood, as the Bontings, ground the film with their blend of domestic warmth and deepening apprehension, their household slowly unraveling under the weight of suspicion.
What really stands out to me about The Lodgeris how visually it leans into a moody, noir-inflected style. Lucien Ballard’s cinematography bathes everything in deep shadows and swirling fog, clearly inspired by German Expressionism. The result is a world that feels at once claustrophobic and strangely dreamlike.
Every frame seems alive with narrow alleyways, rain-slicked streets, and dark, shadowy interiors, conjuring a London that feels like it’s on the verge of hysteria.
The camera lingers on faces, hands, and fleeting, telling glances that say more than words, adding to the tension and uncertainty that drive the story forward.
And Hugo Friedhofer’s score? It quietly threads the film with a subtle but undeniable force that adds to the sense of doom, giving The Lodgerits lingering, haunted melancholy that hangs over every scene.
Brahm tightly holds the reins—there’s this careful balance between those quiet, psychologically uneasy moments and sudden bursts of violence and panic. Compared to Hitchcock’s silent version, which focused more on suspicion and the threat of mob justice, this film seems to delve deeper into the psychology of its characters, especially Salde, whose twisted motivations are revealed in chilling detail. The story deviates from the novel and its earlier adaptations, but it manages to add a sense of unpredictability and dread. The Lodger isn’t so much a whodunit as it is about consuming shadows of fear and obsession.
The Lodgerwas released at a time when Hollywood was dealing with all the anxieties that come with war and the lingering shadows of the past. Brahm, a German émigré, brought a distinctly European sensibility to the film, blending that polished Hollywood studio gloss with the moody, intense vibe of 1930s Expressionism. The end result is a film that somehow feels both timeless and completely of its moment—a suspenseful, unsettling meditation on evil, desire, and the darkness that can hide behind even the most respectable facades.
In the end, The Lodgeris less a straightforward thriller than a feverish portrait of a city—and a mind—unraveling. With its unforgettable performances, haunting visuals, and lingering sense of unease, it remains a high point of 1940s horror.
There is a memorable line in the 1944 film The Lodger that touches on the paradox of love and hate. Laird Cregar’s character, Mr. Slade, utters:
“To hate a thing and love it too, and to love it so much that you hate it.”
This line is delivered during one of Slade’s intense, confessional moments, revealing the tortured duality at the heart of his character. Slade is speaking to Kitty, who has become both his obsession and his undoing. The quote sums up the film’s central tension—Slade’s simultaneous attraction to and resentment of women, especially those who remind him of his tragic past. It’s a moment that not only deepens our understanding of Slade’s psychological torment but also highlights the film’s exploration of the thin, often blurred line between love and hate.
This duality drives the suspense and emotional complexity of The Lodger, leaving us unsettled by the realization that the two emotions can coexist so fiercely within a single soul and Cregar is masterful at bringing to life the aching duality of a soul at war with itself, embodying both longing and menace with a grace that makes his torment feel hauntingly real. His performance shimmers with the tension of a man forever caught between shadow and light, desire and dread, each emotion reflected in his face like a secret he can never quite escape.
HANGOVER SQUARE 1945
Cregar reignites his role as a tormented soul. Once again, John Brahm returns with Hangover Square (1945), a feverish, noir-soaked descent into madness, obsession, and the perilous intersection of art and violence. Set in Edwardian London, the film follows George Harvey Bone, a gifted composer played with haunting vulnerability and intensity by Laird Cregar. Bone’s life is a study in contrasts: outwardly gentle and unassuming, inwardly tormented by blackouts triggered by discordant sounds—episodes that leave him with no memory and, as we soon learns, a trail of violence in his wake.
The film opens with a jolt: Bone, in a fugue state, murders a shop owner and sets the scene ablaze, then stumbles home, bloodied and bewildered, unable to recall his actions. This pattern of lost time and chilling gloom becomes the film’s pulse as Bone seeks help from Dr. Allan Middleton (George Sanders), a renowned police surgeon and psychological consultant at Scotland Yard.
After committing the murder during one of his amnesiac episodes, George seeks help for his troubling blackouts. He confides in Barbara Chapman, played by Faye Marlowe, who is the supportive and caring daughter of Sir Henry Chapman, a well-known conductor and George Harvey Bone’s mentor, who takes him to see Dr. Middleton.
At the heart of Bone’s unraveling is his infatuation with Netta Longdon, a cunning and ambitious music hall singer brought to life by Linda Darnell. Netta’s beauty and charm mask a ruthless opportunism; she manipulates Bone’s affections, using his talent to advance her own career while stringing him along with false promises.
Cregar’s Bone is desperate, yearning, and increasingly unstable, while Darnell’s Netta is dazzling and cold, her self-interest sharpening every exchange. Faye Marlowe’s Barbara Chapman, the compassionate daughter of Bone’s mentor, offers a gentler counterpoint, her concern for Bone underscoring the tragedy of a man pulled between light and darkness.
Visually, Hangover Squareis a vivid illustration of a noir/thriller atmosphere. Cinematographer Joseph LaShelle (Fallen Angel 1945, Road House 1948, Where the Sidewalk Ends 1950, Marty 1955, The Apartment 1960, How the West Was Won 1962) bathes the film in inky shadows and soft, gaslit haze, creating a world that feels both lush and claustrophobic. Brahm’s direction is dynamic and inventive—overhead shots, Dutch angles, and low perspectives lend a sense of instability and tension, mirroring Bone’s fractured psyche. The film’s most striking set pieces—particularly the Guy Fawkes bonfire scene, with masked revelers encircling a towering blaze—are both grandly theatrical and chillingly intimate, the camera swooping and gliding as Bone’s fate closes in around him.
Bernard Herrmann’s score is also integral to the film’s impact, his original piano concerto serving as both a narrative centerpiece and a psychological battleground. The music swells and recedes with Bone’s moods, the climactic concert sequence a brilliant flourish of sound and image: as flames consume the concert hall, Bone plays on, lost in his own creation, the boundaries between art, madness, and destruction dissolving in the inferno.
Hangover Square is rooted in the mood of its time. It starts with Patrick Hamilton’s 1941 novel, but is transformed into a kind of Gothic melodrama that’s full of the era’s anxieties. The Edwardian setting comes alive with all the rich period details—those sumptuous costumes, busy pubs, and clouds of smoke swirling through every scene. But what really sets the film apart is its noir edge, that constant sense of dread and inevitability running underneath it all that defines its style. Cregar’s performance, tragically his last truly, becomes the beating heart of the film. He embodies the duality of a man gifted and doomed. His torment is visible in every gesture, every look, and every move he makes.
In the end, Hangover Squareis a story of a soul at war with itself, of love curdled into obsession, and of genius consumed by its own fire.
#94 Down, 56 to go! Your EverLovin Joey formally & affectionately known as MosnterGirl!
“It wasn’t a message that stirred the audiences, nor was it a great performance… they were aroused by pure film.” – Alfred Hitchcock told Francois Truffaut about Psycho, adding that it “belongs to filmmakers, to you and me.” Hitchcock deliberately wanted Psycho to look like a cheap exploitation film.
Upon release, Psycho1960 polarized critics. Bosley Crowther of The New York Times initially dismissed it as “sicko” but later included it in his Top Ten of 1960, praising its “bold psychological mystery.”
film critic Roger Ebert that captures the enduring praise for Hitchcock’s Psycho: “What makes Psycho immortal, when so many films are already half-forgotten as we leave the theater, is that it connects directly with our fears: Our fears that we might impulsively commit a crime, our fears of the police, our fears of becoming the victim of a madman, and of course our fears of disappointing our mothers.”
Critics like David Thomson dismissed Psycho as a “concession to slasher trash,” arguing that Hitchcock “lost interest” post-Marion’s death. However, film scholars Raymond Durgnat and William Rothman argue that Psycho’s second half intensifies its psychological depth, particularly as Norman Bates spirals further into his fractured psyche. The chilling climax, revealing “Mother” as a mummified corpse, forces audiences to confront the unsettling reality of dissociative identity —a theme Hitchcock explores with meticulous rigor and haunting, unsettling intimacy.
From the very first jarring notes and the fractured lines that slice across the screen, spelling out “Psycho” in stark relief, we’re warned that we’re stepping into a story where nothing is as it seems. A ripple of unease builds, echoing the rising strings, as Hitchcock draws us into a world stitched together from secrets, betrayals, and broken minds. Joseph Stefano’s adaptation of Robert Bloch’s novel doesn’t just give us a tale of stolen money and shadowy murders—it peels back the wallpaper of ordinary life to reveal deeper questions about who we are and what we desire. Beneath its surface, Psycho is a mirror reflecting the anxieties of a society obsessed with appearances and haunted by what lurks beneath: the pull of forbidden wants, the tension between who we pretend to be and what we can’t admit even to ourselves. The film quietly warns us that when people are forced to hide or deny their true selves, when identity and desire are locked away, darkness finds a way to seep through the cracks, and the most shocking horrors can wear the most familiar faces.
Before Psycho, most of Hitchcock’s films focused on building suspense and tension between characters, often using color and rarely diving deep into truly deviant or taboo subject matter—aside from a few exceptions like Shadow of a Doubt and Strangers on a Train. Hitchcock himself was known around Hollywood as a bit of an oddball: a perfectionist, sometimes difficult on set, and with a reputation for being both controlling and flirtatious. What’s fascinating is that, right as the 1960s were about to shake up society, Hitchcock decided to reinvent himself as a director with Psycho. Working with Joseph Stefano’s daring script, he delivered a film that shocked audiences with its sexual undertones, glimpses of nudity, and that now-legendary, brutally intense shower scene, pushing boundaries in ways he never had before and helping to usher in a new era of psychological horror.
Hitchcock shot Psycho on a modest $800,000 budget, using the crew from his television series Alfred Hitchcock Presents rather than his usual feature film team. Filmed in black and white, with long stretches of silence and minimalist sets, the Bates Motel and looming Bates house were constructed on Universal’s backlot. In its raw, visceral style, Psycho shares more with gritty noir films like Detour than with Hitchcock’s polished classics such as Rear Window1954 or Vertigo 1958.
No other Hitchcock film left a greater impression or such a powerful impact on its audience.
The runaway success of Psycho took Hitchcock aback so much that he reached out to the Stanford Research Institute to investigate what made it such a phenomenon. The film was a stark departure from his earlier, more polished, and high-budget productions, which made its impact all the more surprising to him. What truly astonished Hitchcock was how deeply Psychoconnected with audiences in ways he hadn’t fully anticipated. Its unique blend of extreme terror and dark humor created an emotional rollercoaster unlike anything he had achieved before, leaving audiences with a strange mix of both terror and his sardonic sense of humor.
According to film scholar Linda Williams, “Genre study has sometimes been the one place in film studies where repeatable audience pleasures…have been scrutinized” (“Discipline and Fun” 359).
“I was directing the viewers,” the director told Truffaut in their book-length interview. “You might say I was playing them like an organ.”
Hitchcock announced, “The late-comers would have been waiting to see Janet Leigh after she had disappeared from the screen action.” For its original audience, it was the most shocking film they had ever experienced. Hitchcock insisted, “Do not reveal the surprises!”
Janet Leigh pays for Anthony Perkin’s psychosis. Molly Haskell, in From Reverence to Rape makes an observation about the treatment of the Hitchcock woman “She must be punished, her complacency shattered; and so he submits his heroines to excruciating ordeals, long trips through terror in which they may be raped, violated by birds, killed. The plot itself becomes a mechanism for destroying their icy self-possession and their emotional detachment…
… Like Norman Bates ‘mother’ in Psycho, who might, by a stretch of the Oedipal complex, be categorized among the brunettes, they are inclined to be possessive and even a little sticky. The Hitchcock protagonist is attracted to the girl he can’t have, and the misogynist in Hitchcock invests the character with poisonous personality traits to punish her for rejecting him. If Hitchcock’s women must be tortured and punished, his men are fully implicated in the deed — and the more detached they seem, the more guilty and morally responsible. “
The ads proclaimed it loudly, yet no audience could have foreseen Hitchcock’s shocking twists—the brutal murder of Marion Crane (Janet Leigh), the apparent heroine, just a third of the way into the film, and the chilling revelation of Norman Bates’s mother. Psychowas marketed with the flair of a William Castle exploitation thriller, heightening its sensational impact. “It is required that you see ‘Psycho’ from the very beginning!”
Slavoj Žižek examines the unsettling narrative shift in Psycho following Marion’s death. The first third of the film highlights how it transitions from her story to a murder mystery centered around Norman Bates. Žižek notes that both Marion’s and Norman’s arcs could function as complete narratives on their own, yet Hitchcock disrupts this structure, creating a jarring effect that reorients the audience’s focus. This deliberate fragmentation underscores the film’s innovative storytelling and its ability to challenge traditional cinematic conventions.
Hitchcock’s decision to kill off Marion Crane in the first part of Psycho shattered the framework of storytelling, transforming the film from a crime thriller to a psycho-sexual shocker and destabilizing audience expectations. This bold move shifted the focus onto Norman Bates, the deeply troubled motel owner whose fractured psyche became a defining template for psychological horror. Hitchcock didn’t stop at narrative shocks—he layered the film with visual cues like mirrors and high-angle shots to evoke voyeurism and duality, drawing viewers deeper into Norman’s disturbed world. And then there’s Bernard Herrmann’s iconic score: among the film’s most indelible elements, and perhaps its most evocative hallmarks, are the shrieking violins during the shower scene, which contrast sharply with the eerie silence of Norman’s final stare, leaving audiences haunted by both sound and stillness.
“The first part (Marion’s story) could well stand alone: it is easy to perform a mental experiment and to imagine it as a thirty-minute TV story, a kind of morality play in which the heroine gives way to temptation and enters the path of damnation, only to be cured by the encounter with Norman, who confronts her with the abyss that awaits her at the end of the road — in him, she sees a mirror- image of her own future; sobered, she decides to return to normal life […] The film’s second part, Norman’s story, is also easy to imagine as a closed whole, a rather traditional unraveling of the mystery of a pathological serial killer.” (Žižek)
Although the twists in Psycho—Marion Crane’s shocking murder and the truth about Norman’s mother– are now common knowledge, the film remains a chilling thriller. This enduring impact lies in Hitchcock’s skillful crafting of two less obvious elements: Marion’s story setup and her complex dynamic with Norman Bates. Hitchcock treats these early moments with meticulous care, as though they will carry the entire narrative, making their eventual subversion all the more unsettling.
Alfred Hitchcock, Anthony Perkins, and Janet Leigh on the set of Psycho 1960.
Anthony Perkins and Janet Leigh, who played Norman Bates and Marion Crane, respectively, had a license to improvise their parts in Psycho to some degree. Hitchcock gave them free rein within scenes, as long as their ad-libbing didn’t change the angle required for a shot.
The film’s screenwriter, Joseph Stefano, would later describe one piece of improvisation by Perkins as his “most magical moment” in the film. It was the actor’s own decision to have Norman chewing on candy corn, nervously watching on as Marion’s car descends ever-so-slowly down into a swamp.”– (Source – during the scene where Norman disposes of Marion’s body – according to Guy Howie’s article published Mon, 25 March 2024, 11:00, UK from FAR OUT).
The setup revolves around a recurring Hitchcock theme: the guilt of an ordinary individual ensnared in a criminal act. Though Marion Crane steals $40,000, she remains emblematic of Hitchcock’s archetype—an otherwise innocent person caught in the web of wrongdoing.
This is not unlike Hitchcock’s Marnie (1964), in which he revisits his fascination with women on the run and the symbolic significance of their possessions, particularly their suitcases. In the film’s opening scenes, even before we meet Marnie herself, we are introduced to the items she has acquired: a bright yellow handbag containing stolen money, a new suitcase, freshly purchased clothes, and gifts for her mother. These objects are meticulously packed into her suitcase, reflecting not only Marnie’s compulsive need for control but also her attempts to construct a new identity.
Marion Crane’s introduction is far from glamorous—a clandestine afternoon in a dingy hotel room with her divorced lover, Sam Loomis (John Gavin), whose alimony keeps marriage out of reach. Enter $40,000, courtesy of a sleazy real estate client, Mr. Cassidy (Frank Albertson), who all but implies that Marion herself might have a price. Ironically, her crime is born of love, and her victim is hardly worth pity—a slimy opportunist who practically invites his own downfall.
Unveiling the Layers of Madness: Hitchcock’s “Psycho” and the Birth of Modern Horror:
Let’s face it: Anthony Perkins’ Norman Bates is an enigmatic anti-hero. Similarly, in Shadow of a Doubt (1943), Joseph Cotton’s Uncle Charlie’s chilling monologue about widows deserving death is framed from his niece’s horrified point of view. This juxtaposition of intimacy and menace creates both empathy for her fear and fascination with his charisma. By fostering empathy for antagonists, Hitchcock challenged traditional notions of good versus evil in horror storytelling.
Alfred Hitchcock’s cinematic virtuosity with his seminal psycho-sexual thriller, Psycho, has elevated the film to an unparalleled status in the history of cinema, rendering it instantly recognizable and profoundly influential. And let’s face it, what Jaws did for swimming in the ocean, Psychodid as the first horror movie that took away the safety of taking showers in your own home!
With his adaptation of Robert Bloch’s 1959 pulp novel of the same name, Bloch conjured Norman Bates, his mysterious and elusive mother, and the Bates Motel, helping it become a landmark in film history, renowned for its masterful direction and psychological depth. But his conjuration had its roots in the deeply disturbing, grim reality that defies the realm of myth and fantasy.
In films such as The Dark Mirror and The Locket, the male psychiatrist is posited as an antidote to the bad female by being "˜'established as a detective figure whose principal function is to investigate and ultimately to eradicate "˜deviance' (represented in these instances by excessive female desire.)'' From Frank Krutnik IN A LONELY STREET; FILM NOIR, GENRE AND MASCULINITY 1991
It is the phantom of our own Self, whose intimate relationship with and deep effect upon our spirit casts us into hell or transports us to Heaven – E.T.A. Hoffmann
”The figure of the double has been manifest in diverse forms. At times the doppelgänger has shown itself as an ether being – a shadow, a reflection or an animated portrait. At other points, it has taken the shape of an identical being – a person of kindred appearance, a relative, a twin.” From TWO-FACED WOMEN: THE "˜DOUBLE" IN WOMEN'S MELODRAMA OF THE 1940S – Lucy Fischer Cinema Journal 1983
In the 1920s hard-edged and gritty crime fiction became popular, and by the 1940s Hollywood embraced them. At the same time Freudian psychoanalysis became a big deal in America. People knew the basics of Freud’s ideas, so Hollywood could paint stories with ideas the audience could recognize, knowing that people would get the main gist. It became the foundation for some amazing visual displays. Dream sequences started popping up a lot in American cinema, most distinctive in thrillers and in particular in film noir. The Dark Mirror is one of the standout films made during the 1940s and 1950s that introduced psychiatry – like – Spellbound 1945 and two years later, de Havilland would star in Anatole Litvak’s The Snake Pit1948.
Much of film noir's psychological pathology gives rise to obsessive fixations on the object of one's desire. What differs with Siodmak's The Dark Mirror is that the psychotic's fixation lies with their sibling and not a lover.
The Dark Mirror is a psychological film noir released in 1946, directed by Robert Siodmak who worked with shadows in his various film noir/horror/ and thrillers like an artist works with paints. The film was produced and screenplay written by writer/director Nunnally Johnson who penned a slew of diverse screenplays that spanned the 1940s through the 1960s – including The Grapes of Wrath 1940, and The Dirty Dozen 1967.
Nunnally Johnson, transitioning from writer and producer to director, secured the rights and brought the story to life on screen. The film materialized through a collaborative effort between International Pictures, co-founded by Johnson and William Goetz, and Universal Pictures, marking their inaugural project under the Universal Pictures-International Pictures Banner.
The recently established studios were looking for a well-known name for their picture and Olivia de Havilland who was a huge star at the time came on board. She had recently taken legal action against Warner Bros. to terminate her contract and was now free from the studio's stranglehold.
In 1947, she delivered a noteworthy performance in To Each His Own for Paramount earning her the Academy Award for Best Actress. Following two films, The Well-Groomed Bride and Devotion in 1946, she entered into an agreement with Nunnally Johnson to star in The Dark Mirror.’
The Dark Mirror, like The Spiral Staircase both of which were classic ‘paranoid women’ /Â "˜woman's films' stars de Havilland who plays identical twins, one of whom is a knife-wielding paranoiac killer. The casting of de Havilland is significant particularly because she not only starred in a variety of women's pictures but her sister Joan Fontaine was also an iconic star of the paranoid woman's films. Some of the most notable are Hitchcock’s adaptation of Du Murier’s Rebecca 1940 and Nicolas Ray’s Born to Be Bad 1950.The Dark Mirror presents itself as a psychological noir right from the start of the film with the Rorschach blots backgrounding the titles.
Olivia de Havilland engaged in a notable real-life conflict with her younger sister – silver screen star Joan Fontaine. This behind-the-scenes rivalry positioned the actress to confront her own duality in Robert Siodmak’s 1946 quintessential film noir, The Dark Mirror.
Siodmak made some of the most critical film noirs in the late 1940s and early 1950s, including, The Killers 1946,Cry of the City 1948 Criss Cross 1949and The File on Thelma Jordon 1950. he had left the spotlight that shined on his pictures specializing in terror and became one of the most prominent directors of crime noir and suspense. By the early 1950s, he grew weary of Hollywood and returned to Germany.
In this way, the reception of Siodmak's 1940s Hollywood films demonstrates the ways in which the category of horrors incorporates films now seen as thrillers, film noir, and examples of the ‘woman's film.’ Siodmak brought with him the sensibility of German cinema strongly associated with the art of shadows and horror.
It's clear, that director Robert Siodmak was drawn to exploring the human psyche in his picture, and The Dark Mirror is a perfect example of this. Siodmak was fascinated with the dynamic of the good sister/bad sister which was apparent in his earlier works like Cobra Woman (1944)and The Strange Affair of Uncle Harry (1945).
Siodmak’s penchant for the use of shadow in his other work holds back his enduring use of chiaroscuro in The Dark Mirror. Apart from the opening scene, the only instances where he delicately manipulates light and shadow occur within the confines of the twins’ bedroom.
The bedroom is the place where we are most vulnerable, where they sleep, which is symbolic of the psychological warfare Terry wages against her sister Ruth. There was a historic rivalry and jealousy over the years. The perceived rejections by male suitors, even the adoptive parents who chose Ruth over her. At the end of the film, Detective Stevenson tells Dr. Elliot that he had the idea to lay a trap for Terry because he feared for Ruth's life. "˜'Even a nut can figure out that it's simpler to get rid of a rival than to go on knocking off her boyfriends all the rest of her life.''
A narrative featuring identical twins presented an ideal chance to delve deeper into the realm of the doppelgänger mythology, a theme that captivated him and inspired by Fritz Lang’s Metropolis (1927).
Based on a short story by Vladimir Pozner that appeared in Good Housekeeping in 1945, The Dark Mirroris notable for its exploration into the complexities of the human mind and the manifestation of conflicting identities.
Pozner's story was nominated for Best Story at the Academy Awards, though it lost to "˜'Vacation from Marriage” by Clemence Dane, which was adapted into a British movie released as Perfect Strangers in the UK starring Robert Donat and Deborah Kerr.
Collaborating with cinematographer Milton Krasner, known for his work on Lang’s Woman in the Window 1944 and Scarlet Street 1945, and All About Eve 1950, Siodmak enlisted an old colleague – Eugen Schüfftan, for visual effects. Schüfftan created the visual effects for Metropolis 1927. In the film, over three dozen shots feature mirrors, some to set the tone, but mostly to depict the inner conflict of the twins, highlighting their interchangeable likeness. De Havilland is shot beautifully in split screen using a stand-in when both twins appear.
Though de Havilland gave a very nuanced performance balancing opposing identities, down to the tone of her voice used for each sister, their body language, facial expressions, the subtle arching of her eyelids, and the sister's diverging character traits, Siodmak tried to ensure that the audience would have subtle cues for each of the characters. They were visibly "˜labeled' for us. De Havilland's Ruth is gentle yet timorous and softly spoken. She wrings her hands out of nervousness. Terry, however, is the bolder one, more assertive and hostile by a hair's breadth when challenged. Terry also smokes and is left-handed, while Ruth chooses to favor her right hand.
In a large part of the film, as in so many films, clothes often tell a story, in particular at the beginning of The Dark Mirrorthe twins wear identical clothing, Irene Shraff's costume designs, monogrammed dressing gowns, tailored houndstooth suits, initialed brooches, and largish necklaces bearing the letter ‘T’ and "˜R' might have been used as visual clues to help us sort out which twin was which, however, this does not dismiss de Havilland's ability to traverse the dueling roles.
The narrative is framed by the presence of two significant mirrors, serving as visual parentheses for the story.
Siodmak initiates ambiguity with his use of mirrors and reflections: right from the opening sequence there is a shattered mirror which is reiterated or "˜mirrored' at the climax of the film when Terry throws an object at the mirror after she sees Ruth's image in the glass. Throughout The Dark Mirror appearances are deceptions – this is the central substance of the story.
The Dark Mirroris a psychological study of identical twin sisters Terry and Ruth Collins both played by Olivia de Havilland who vex and bewilder Thomas Mitchell (Stagecoach 1939, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington 1939, Gone with the Wind 1939also with de Havilland, It's a Wonderful Life 1946, High Noon 1952.) who plays surly Detective Stevenson who gets frustrated and ornery trying to solve a murder he is convinced one of them has committed. Lew Ayres plays the role of Dr. Scott Elliott, a psychiatrist tasked by Stevenson to help unravel the mystery as to which one of the twins is guilty of murder.
De Havilland's performance is striking under Siodmak's direction a tough process considering both Collins sisters had to be filmed separately for the scenes where she/they occupied the screen at the same time. Adding to the struggle to make this work was the disagreements between Siodmak and de Havilland who clashed from the beginning over how to approach the way the twins were portrayed. Siodmak was making a psychological thriller and de Havilland saw the film as a character study of paranoid schizophrenia (Greco) "˜'One sister could and one couldn't commit murder, and that's all there is to it,'' the film's resident psychiatrist explains.
"˜'The film suggests but does not develop the possibility that Terry is Ruth's other self, the "˜dark mirror' that reflects the negative potential lurking beneath Ruth's sunny mask. However, the insistence on the separation of the characters into icons of good and evil makes the film a superficial melodrama rather than a probing psychological study. Good and evil do not engage in an internal clash but are presented as the essence of two separate characters, as in a medieval morality drama.''– Foster Hirsch The Dark Side of the Screen: Film Noir
The film’s foundation rests on the "˜old wives tale' about twins, suggesting that one must possess an inherent darkness"”in this instance, a deep-rooted psychological one. Featuring the dramatic taglines: Dramatic tagline Twins! One who loves… and one who loves to kill! This is conveyed in the film's promotional ads, “To know this twin is to love her"¦ to know this twin is to die!”
When one of the twins is accused of murdering a doctor, both come under scrutiny. Ironically, it becomes impossible to establish which twin was identified by the eyewitnesses, so the law can't touch them.
Dr. Scott Elliott who frequents the medical plaza's magazine stand where he purchases his lemon drops from Terry, is shocked when he discovers that she has an identical twin sister Ruth. Dr. Elliot (Lew Ayers) is called to the district attorney's office to help with the investigation because he is an expert in the study of behavioral genetics in twins.
The Dark Mirror was Lew Ayers’s first movie after a four-year absence acting as an Army medic and awarded three battle stars during WWII. He returned to acting and became famous for his kindly Dr. Kildare series of films which was on the nose having been away for four years working as a doctor.
A darkened cityscape leads to an apartment that unfolds with a nighttime homicide and a shattered mirror like a fractured mind, an overturned lamp, and a man lying on the floor with a. knife stabbed through his heart. It establishes an atmospheric backdrop for a sinister and psychological story where the thin line between the narratives’ proposed trope of good vs evil is obscured behind the enigma of perceived "˜female' duality.
At the opening of the film, it is nighttime in the city and Siodmak masterfully employs protracted camera movements through two rooms in an apartment. He unveils the time of a violent struggle, the time is precisely 10:48 pm. A man has been stabbed in the back. A prominent mirror over the fireplace becomes the silent witness to the murder – shattered – it is a visual testament to the intensity of the attack.
Cut to Detective Stevenson (Thomas Mitchell) assigned to the case, who is interviewing several witnesses in his office at the police station. The identity of the victim is revealed to be Dr. Frank Peralta. Two of the witnesses claim they saw a woman leaving his apartment around the time of the murder. Soon he learns the name, Theresa ‘Terry’ Collins.
Peralta’s assistant tells Stevenson that the doctor was in love with Terry and had planned to propose to her which gave Terry a motive. It was no secret that Terry was dating Peralta. Maybe it was a lover’s quarrel? As far as Detective Stevenson knows, the only suspect is Terry Collins.
The next morning, Stevenson brings his two solid witnesses to Terry’s magazine stand in the medical building, in order for them to lay eyes on her and confirm she is the woman they saw leaving Peralta’s apartment. They are both certain it was her. He begins to interrogate her but is cut off when Dr. Scott Elliot comes by to purchase his well-loved lemon drops. Stevenson continues to put pressure on Terry to give her whereabouts the night before. She is able to detail every move as well as deliver the names of several witnesses who can swear to her presence, including a police officer and her butcher.
Once Terry learns that Peralta has been murdered she faints and seems genuinely shaken up by the news. Stevenson cannot break Terry’s alibi so he can’t arrest her. But this cop is doggedly convinced the girl is good for the murder and drops by her apartment to get to the bottom of the confusion with the witnesses. Then Ruth appears. The sisters are wearing the same bathrobes, though one is adorned with the monogrammed ‘T’ and one has the letter ‘R’ on it.
Stevenson almost combusts from the revelation that there are two of them- identical in every way and he is convinced that one of them murdered Peralta. The Collins sisters are resolute to stay silent. Neither sister will confess to which one has the foolproof alibi and which one stayed home that night. This drives Stevenson to distraction. The interrogation is getting him nowhere, there are no fingerprints on the knife and no way to prove that either one of them was there at the crime scene.
Orphans since childhood, Ruth and Terry Collins are inseparable. They live together, dress alike, and even wear wire necklaces that bear their names with a peculiar"” over-obsessive clunky jeweled monogram – as if they force their identities upon us or perhaps each might be threatened by losing themselves without them. Ruth is older by seven minutes, yet Terry seems to be the more dominant, controlling sister. Terry has a maniacal obsession with Ruth and is driven to prove that she is the superior twin.
The story unfolds – Stevenson learns how Terry and Ruth seamlessly orchestrate a charade, both working at the magazine stand as the same girl – taking turns to enjoy moments of respite – essentially to "˜switch out'' when one of them wants time off.
Under the guise of a singular job (which they cleverly share under Terry’s name), to the casual observer, no one can tell the difference until the murder exposes that they are, in fact, two separate people. Even Dr. Peralta didn’t know he was actually dating twins at the time he asked Dr. Elliott about split personalities.
Terry stands as a mother figure, a notion that the ‘bad twin’ constantly drives home to Ruth by asserting she is protecting her, making it more of a challenge for Ruth to betray her sister in the maternal role.
Among other films exploring dynamics projected by the good twin/the bad twin trope – they are often suggestive of variations on schizophrenia.
Detective Stevenson brings the sisters in for a line-up but they are so uncannily alike, that the witnesses can’t tell them apart.
Because both Terry and Ruth stay quiet, the DA is forced to drop the case against them because they won’t be able to convict with no evidence. But Stevenson is a bulldog and isn’t willing to give up. That’s when he seeks out Dr. Scott Elliott to help him uncover the truth about which one murdered Peralta.
The investigating officer on the case is Lt. Stevenson (Thomas Mitchell) enlists the unofficial help of up and coming psychiatrist, though Stevenson is more of a skeptic about psychology referring to him as a "˜fortune teller' who employs "˜gimmicks.' "Don't you witch doctors treat people with tinker toys?''
Dr. Elliot doesn't ascribe to the age-old superstitions that twins are usually "penalized in some way, physically or psychically."
He believes that "character, personality is the key" – that the two elements which are very black & white are pivotal, though one is a moral question and the other is scientific. Ayers is an actor who often comes across as a paternalistic figure puffs on his pipe and uses softly phrased insights as the even keel Dr. Elliott.
Dr. Elliot says, "Not even nature can duplicate' this quality, "even in twins" so this is what would tell who is the murderer. He adds that "˜one could and one couldn't commit murder, and that's all there is to it."
"˜'the insistent separation of the characters into icons of good and evil makes the film a superficial melodrama rather than a probing psychological study. Good and Evil do not engage in an internal clash but are presented as the essence of two separate characters, as in a medieval morality drama.'' Foster Hirsch
Terry and Ruth agree to be added as another set of twins for Dr. Elliott's research, though Ruth appears to be more wary of submitting to his examinations and acts cautious believing that Terry might be guilty of the murder.
Terry admits to Ruth that Peralta did propose to her and that she did see Peralta the night he was murdered. But Ruth agrees not to talk. She poses the question to Ruth, why would I kill him? Ruth is frightened that the truth will come out during Dr. Elliot’s examinations, but Terry thinks she's smarter than him and can pass all his ridiculous tests.
As Dr. Elliott delves into the lives of Terry and Ruth, he discovers the stark contrast in their personalities. While Terry is manipulative, cunning, and emotionally unstable, Ruth is kind-hearted and virtuous.
The mystery deepens as Dr. Elliott tries to understand the motives behind the murder and grapples with the challenge of distinguishing between the sisters. The film takes an intriguing turn as Dr. Elliott employs psychological techniques to uncover the truth.
Elliott puts the girls through a series of standard psychological tests that seem to imply more of a moral evaluation than a psychiatric one. After Terry gives her impressions of the inkblots Elliott determines that she has a dark inner conflict, clever and calculating, even a tendency toward violence, after she describes "the lamb looks so innocent, but it has two men under its paws."
Terry's answers seem rehearsed, suggesting an attempt to assert her power though she tries to convey a helpless innocence. But Elliott notices the contrast in Ruth's answers right away. She appears very genuine, and is not aggressive, or threatening, with her contemplations more of a refined nature, as in dancers around a maypole and skaters in an ice show. Ruth is more retiring and amiable. This leads Elliott to conclude that Ruth is normal and Terry is the one who is mentally disturbed. Eventually, the monograms are disposable as de Havilland manifests the difference through her acting skills.
As Dr. Elliott delves deeper into the two personalities he begins to fall in love with Ruth, while Terry pursues him romantically. A pattern that is replaying itself. In the past, men have always chosen Ruth over her, while Terry desires them herself.
We learn that as orphans, a couple wanted to adopt Ruth but not Terry, and as they grew up, men were always drawn to Ruth, even Dr. Peralta preferred Ruth though he didn't know why. It was when he was with Terry that he feared she suffered from a split personality.
Ruth isn’t aware of Terry’s psychosis but Dr. Elliott is convinced that she is insane and killed Peralta in a jealous rage.
The narrative appears somewhat superficial, adopting a simplistic approach wherein the individual potentially toying with Elliott’s psyche, teasing him with aggressive insights, is labeled as the embodiment of evil. Meanwhile, the one exhibiting a gentler perspective through her mild and innocuous visions is deemed the epitome of normalcy.
"˜'20 percent of people who see things in the inkblots that expose the "˜'true secret patterns of their own minds'' The results for Elliott point to this"¦ "˜'one of our young ladies is insane.''
During the free association session, Dr. Elliott is left a bit mystified because the only unusual reflex is Ruth's reaction to the word "˜'mirror,''to which she responds, "˜'death.'' Now he cannot wait to see how Terry responds to his prompts. But being visibly unnerved, having found out from Ruth how she reacted to the word mirror, it is not clear whether Terry would have given the same answer or if she is now toying with Elliott.
Terry is agitated when she hears Ruth's answer which shows some understanding of "˜that mumbo jumbo.' She refers to Dr. Elliott's tests as "˜'kindergarten games’' obviously trying to poison Ruth's faith in the doctor's credibility and that his psychological tests are nothing more than childish trials.
When Dr. Elliott gives them both a polygraph, it is hard for Terry to successfully manipulate her responses. Terry’s blood pressure spikes every time Elliott invokes Ruth’s name. Whenever her sister is mentioned the needle bounds frantically across the paper in a storm of black lines, especially bringing up the subject of a particular boy who liked Ruth.
From these tests, Elliotts makes his diagnosis – Ruth is sane and innocent of the murder while Terry is "˜'a paranoiac- a paranoiac is capable of anything.'' He is assured that Terry merely found his tests "˜'another challenge to her, another opportunity to show the world what contempt she has for it. That was the tip-off."
"A marker for insanity, or at least "˜'abnormality'' for women, then, is the transgression of typical patriarchal authority. The "˜tip-off' to Elliott that Terry is the "˜'wrong'' twin is her effort to thwart the masculine power and rules that are being applied to explain her motives, psyche, and very existence." – THE DARK MIRROR PSYCHIATRY AND FILM NOIR BY MARLISA SANTOS
Though Terry thinks she is putting one over on Elliott with his psychological "˜analysis' she begins to feel threatened by the growing romantic relationship between him and Ruth.
Terry witnesses Elliott and Ruth in an embrace outside their apartment building, but when asked Ruth doesn’t mention it. Terry becomes more desperate to sabotage Ruth's budding romance, something she evidently has done in the past. She decides to seduce Dr. Elliott herself, while gaslighting Ruth, trying to make her think she is losing her mind.
She begins to torture Ruth, hoping to push her to commit suicide and pin Peralta’s murder on her. She crafts illusions, spins nightmares, and conjures conversations, savoring every moment of her imaginative ploy.
Initially puzzling is why Ruth willingly covers for Terry despite being the target of Terry’s cruel gaslighting, nearly driving her to a mental breakdown. As Ruth witnesses Terry’s darker side, she hesitates to betray her, fearing that Terry’s potential for evil, even going as far as murder, might also exist within herself.
Terry starts by telling Ruth that she's been having nightmares, talking in her sleep, and then waking hysterical and terrified. Persuading Ruth to consume an excessive amount of sleeping pills, Terry secretly uses flashbulbs to light up their pitch-black bedroom in the dead of night. Ruth awakens startled while her cunning sister Terry pretends not to have seen anything.
Terry also secretly turns on a music box so it will remain playing after she leaves their apartment, to create the illusion that Ruth is only hearing the music from inside her head.
After all this, Ruth begins to believe she is descending into madness. Her head grasped between her hands she breaks down, – "Something's happening to me, and I don't know what it is. I don't understand it. I'm so scared; I don't know what to do."Pleased with her scheme to drive her sister crazy Terry reassures her –
"˜'Just remember that I'm with you and I'm always going to be with you. no matter what"¦ no matter happens, they can't do a thing without {her} consent.''Â
Terry is suggesting that Ruth is mad, but she'll be there to protect her as always. "˜'We'll be together as long as we live.''
"Terry converts feelings of loss and fragmentation into fantasies of total power and god-like control; she projects lack onto her own sister in the form of psychological disorder."˜' – Lutz Koepnick from Doubling the double: Robert Siodmak in Hollywood
Self-absorbed, Terry constantly seeks approval from Elliott, wanting to know what it is about Ruth that draws him to her. In a crucial scene, she even pretends to be Ruth, kissing Elliott and challenging him to be able to tell the difference. Yet she cannot restrain herself from self-aggrandizing “Terry is the smart one,” the one men usually go for.''
The use of a one-way mirror becomes a visual metaphor and a symbolic tool, reflecting not only the physical likeness of the twins but also the duplicity and hidden facets of their personalities. As the story unfolds, the audience is taken on a journey through the labyrinth of the human mind, exploring the nature of identity, morality, and the thin line between good and evil.
As the walls close in around Terry, she becomes more and more possessive of Ruth: "You and I are never going to be separated, as long as we live. You and I are going to be together. Always.''
Elliott tells Stevenson that Terry is a paranoiac and definitely killed Dr Peralta. Stevenson becomes concerned for Ruth's safety, so Elliott promises to tell Ruth that night about her sister. He calls the sister’s apartment and asks Ruth to come to see him later. But he is actually talking to Terry pretending to be Ruth. Fortunately, Ruth stops by his office right after the phone call, so he uncovers Terry's ruse. Later on, Terry arrives at his apartment not realizing that Elliott knows about her trickery.
In a demeaning and sexist soliloquy, Elliot begins to enlighten fake ‘Ruth’ about sisterhood rivalry. All sisters are rivals for men. How it is stronger for sisters than other women. Elliott doesn’t even take into consideration ‘social class’. This jealousy is ‘‘why sisters can hate each other with such a terrifying intensity.” Considering this misguided theory, the rivalry between twins is even more intense. It is this rivalry that has consumed Terry.
Dr. Elliot –"˜' All women are rivals fundamentally, but it never bothers them because they automatically discount the successes of others and alibi their own failures on the grounds of circumstances – luck, they say. But between sisters, it's a little more serious. Circumstances are generally the same, so they have fewer excuses with which to comfort themselves"¦ That's why sisters can hate each other with such terrifying intensity. And with twins, it's worse.''
He describes how the murder might have taken place. When he confronts Terry about her split personality, she realizes that he was in love with the part of her that is Ruth, even though he didn’t know that Ruth existed. In a jealous rage, she stabbed him in the heart. It struck me how risky this meeting is for Elliott, as Terry is genuinely dangerous having already killed one man. Sure enough, she goes to grab a pair of scissors when the phone rings, and Stevenson gives him the news that Ruth has killed herself. Terry snaps out of her homicidal rage and they rush to the sister’s apartment.
Terry as ‘Ruth’ tells Stevenson that Ruth killed herself because she was ‘sick’ and ‘twisted inside,’ words Elliott used to describe Terry. That it was Ruth who was insane and committed the murder. She killed herself over the guilt. Terry begins to ramble that she is actually Ruth. That it is Terry who has killed herself because she was so jealous of Ruth.
Elliot tries to provoke the fake "˜'Ruth'' into revealing herself as Terry, antagonizing her about her past rejections. The family that wanted Ruth but not her, and the boys who preferred Ruth.
He confronts Terry by telling her how mentally disturbed she is. He tells her while she is pretending to be "˜Ruth' that "Terry is "˜sick inside'and needs help. He imagines that it is tied to something that happened in their past when they were quite young but has grown inside like a poisoned seedling. "˜'more and more bitter and is now abnormal.’'
Finally working with the police, Ruth, who has been reluctant up til now to believe that Terry is dangerous stages her own "˜'suicide'' in order to trap her sister. As Terry begins to unravel, Ruth suddenly emerges from the bedroom. When Terry sees her reflected in a mirror behind her she throws an object and smashes it, symbolically destroying her sister who is the constant evidence of her "˜lacking.'
At this revelation it is all over for Terry and she smashes the mirror when she sees Ruth’s reflection.
By the end of the picture, Elliott and Ruth are united. He asks Ruth, ” Why are you so much more beautiful than your sister?”
"˜'Terry's possessiveness may be interpreted as a desire to absorb Ruth, to eliminate the "˜difference'' between them that haunts her and frustrates her desires.'' Marlisa Santos -The Dark Mirror
Dr. Elliot's comment in the end supports the actuality that good and evil can exist within two identical people as he tells Ruth, "˜'That's what twins are you know, reflections of each other, everything in reverse."˜'
This mental image -Â signals the shattering of the mirror by the darker souled Terry at the climax of the picture when she is ultimately caught in her game of deceit, tricked by Detective Stevenson into thinking that the real Ruth has committed suicide. Caught by her own duplicity, she cannot help through her conceit she reveals her lies while claiming that she is actually Ruth and it was Terry that has killed herself.
She tries to convince Stevenson that "Terry' despised her (Ruth) out of jealousy because men always found her more attractive and likable. Unlike the doppelgänger who inhabits an evil that is transferred to the good person, this is subverted with the evil person Terry claiming that she possesses all the good attributes from their double.
The Dark Mirror is often praised for its innovative narrative and psychological depth. The film’s exploration of the duality within a single person, embodied by the twin sisters, adds layers of complexity to the story. Olivia de Havilland’s stellar performance in the dual role is a highlight, showcasing her ability to convey the nuances of two distinct characters.
It is lauded for its psychological depth, but some critics have noted that the resolution of the murder mystery may be somewhat predictable for modern audiences. However, it’s essential to appreciate the film in its historical context, considering its influence on subsequent psychological thrillers.
"˜'Sugar wouldn't melt in the mouth of Nancy, the heroine of The Locket. Yet if we are to believe the evidence, she is a first-class criminal. With this to go on, Nancy brings the wicked-lady psychopathic parade up to date. Laraine Day gives what must be her most fascinating performance. As with so many of these wide-eyed innocents who are supposed to be baddies inside, the spectator maybe have difficulty in crediting her with such heatless villainies. However, there is just enough of a defiant something about Miss Day. More of the spirit than the actual behavior, to raise the shadow of doubt. It is this question mark that holds one rapt.'' "”Philip K. Scheuer, "Laraine Day Psychotpath.'' Los Angeles Times May, 27 1947
"˜'The complexity of Sheridan Gibney's plot was what really enticed me to the material. It was an enigma within an enigma within an enigma. John Brahm, had done a very good horror picture at Twentieth about Jack the Ripper called The Lodger. He was a German- but not too German "” and I thought he would be good to direct this and give it some of the same atmosphere.''"”producer Bert Granet in Lee Server's Baby, I don't Care
The New York Times (1946) found The Dark Mirror to be a lamentable production that operated as little more than a vanity project for Olive de Havilland, who "˜has been tempted by the lure of playing against herself.'
"˜'Siodmak explained that "˜audiences love a picture like The Dark Mirror because it affords what psychoanalysis call a psychic renovating'' The strategy of bringing all aspects of The Dark Mirror under the rubric of psychological science including even its purportedly positive influence on audiences, is indicative of the representational shift away from the cynical and at times gruesome depictions of psychiatrists and psychological practices that characterized wartime horror cinema. The horror films that went into production after the ebbing of the Shock controversy evinced Hollywood's newfound commitment to responsible depiction of psychiatry. A case in point was the 1947 film Possessed''– Bad Medicine from book Merchants of Menace: The Business of Horror Cinema edited by Richard Nowell.
In 1948 the Screen Guild Theater produced a radio version of The Dark Mirror starring Lew Ayres and Loretta Young. In 1950 de Havilland reprised her role for a radio broadcast at Screen Director's Playhouse.
"This is the way of television"¦ Half-hour shows were becoming one-hour shows, so it was decided that ours was to become a one-hour show. I don't recall whose idea it was. I cannot say I know how the arrangements were made. In television the problem is to maintain a standard (especially after seven years). We were always pretty offbeat, but people get used to us being offbeat." "”Alfred Hitchcock (as quoted in "The Alfred Hitchcock Presents Companion," 2001)
“TV has done more for old movie stars than plastic surgery,” -Popular TV critic for the LA Mirror Hal Humphrey wrote his articles based on network and press agent publicity, defended television's stars in comparison to films during the time in the period when big screen actors were transitioning to television.
The Anne Sothern Show began in 1958.
Citing the examples of Joan Blondell, Ann Sothern, and Joan Crawford, Hal Humphrey claimed that these actresses were not “has-beens.” It might be more apt to describe them as mistakes made by the movie industry and rectified by television.”
During the 1950s after decades of escaping the world and its worries within the vastness of the darkened movie theater, television delivered the actors we imagined vividly on the big screen and altered the illusion by fitting them inside a little box in our homes.
Television of the 1950s brought the big screen stars into the inner sanctum of our living rooms.
The emergence of television in the 1950s and 60s transformed the entertainment industry, leading many iconic Hollywood actresses to transition from film to TV.
In the 1950s, the transition from film to television was still a relatively new concept, and many Hollywood actresses were hesitant to make the switch.
“The dominant tendency in star studies has been to denigrate the stature of television stardom, to argue that television does not actually produce stars of the complexity, depth, and cultural value that film does, largely because of the medium’s lesser cultural status and its essential familiarity and intimacy…
Television studies scholar Susan Murray rightly comments suspiciously on these theories:
“. . . it would appear as though, while the cinema’s star system was delineated by a complicated aesthetic, industrial and economic history, the television star is simply a fall from grace."
Therefore, it would seem essential for television to boost the images of such marginal stars by drawing on authenticity as a value superior to the artificiality of constructed glamour and by underscoring television’s ability to rediscover or uncover the genuine talents of the film world’s castoffs and supporting players.”
While some actors perceived TV work as an abdication of their star power, others recognized it as an avenue to sustain their careers and connect with a fresh audience.
Early television frequently recruited performers from various entertainment media, enlisting film actors, radio personalities, and Broadway/stage performers to provide programming talent for the burgeoning medium. Radio had previously offered such a space for Hollywood stars to supplement their film work, but television increasingly took over this role. (Becker)
Until the mid-1950s, studios purposefully kept their stars away from television. However, this claim overlooks the significant number of actors who were no longer bound by contracts with major studios due to the upheaval in the industry.
As a result, these actors were able to seek employment wherever opportunities arose. With labor changes in Hollywood and a decline in overall film production, television became an attractive and viable option for Hollywood actors who were out of work. Studios relented provided the stars received the opportunity to plug the studio and its recent releases. Variety also cited the decision to allow the 1953 Academy Awards to be aired on NBC as a sign of the film industry’s acceptance of television’s credibility.
Television desperately trying to establish itself big Hollywood name became an incredibly exploitable asset as famous actors discovered a new outlet that eagerly sought their skills and their drawing power Hollywood actors played a crucial role in contributing the nuance of prestige to their anthology shows and dramatic teleplays.
Early television strategically leveraged the fame of numerous Hollywood film actors to generate publicity for specific shows, attracting viewers and driving the sales of television sets. Simultaneously, television presented a convenient new job market, offering a fresh lease on life for supporting actors and former stars who needed to revitalize their careers, maintain their popularity, and make money from the emerging medium of television.
Several iconic actresses from classic Hollywood successfully made the swift transition including Joan Crawford, Loretta Young, Bette Davis, and Barbara Stanwyck, all made the leap to television during this period. One of the most notable actresses was Lucille Ball, who starred in the popular sitcom I Love Lucy from 1951 to 1957. Television actually made Lucille Ball a household name.
There were obstacles these actresses encountered, such as adapting to the demands of the smaller screen and managing the more accelerated production schedules of TV shows.
Their performances retained every ounce of their impact, if not enhanced, as they continued to evoke profound emotions and captivate us with the same level of skill, quality, and substance
In fact, given the advent of dramatic teleplays featuring exciting directors and writers who either adapted classic stories, challenging content, or groundbreaking camerawork much of the performances were enhanced by the live format.
The assumption that only displaced film stars would agree to appear on television is challenged by a diverse array of stars who wound up making a foray into that medium. So what precipitated the union between Hollywood movie stars and television programming during the first commercial decade of TV? And how did television showcase the abundance of screen royalty that ran the gamut of beloved character actors to the reigning stars on the big screen? They were able to transfigure stardom and draw audiences with the same desire to see their iconic stars continue to shine but on a more intimate level.
Joan Crawford and The Pepsi-Cola Playhouse on ABC from 1953-1955.
"It is commonly assumed that only dethroned film stars would ever consent to appear on television, but the wide range of stars listed above certainly complicates this hypothesis and raises myriad questions. What industrial circumstances made possible this substantial marriage between Hollywood film talent and television programming in TV’s first commercial decade, and how did early television present this plethora of film talent, from the character actor to the reigning star? What can we learn about concepts of stardom by closely analyzing the activities of film stars at the discrete historical moment when television began as a mass medium, borrowing programming formats, corporate methods, and talent from radio and theater, while simultaneously trying to forge a unique institutional and cultural identity?"¦
…despite an avowed stigma attached to film stars appearing on television, a significant number did appear on the infant medium"¦ and television’s presentations of these stars, along with the public discourse that surrounded them, helped to expose and even alter the parameters of the filmic star system as it was developed to that point, an aspect which audiences surely perceived." – Christine Becker: Televising Film Stardom in the 1950s
Alfred Hitchcock’s anthology television series, which aired from 1955 to 1965, was a popular show that featured a variety of Hollywood actresses in its episodes.
These actresses had already made a name for themselves in classic Hollywood films but found a new audience and showcase their talents. Anthology series typically featured a new story and cast of characters in each episode, allowing actresses to take on a variety of roles.
One of the more regular actresses to appear in Alfred Hitchcock Presents was Barbara Bel Geddes, who starred in the episode “Lamb to the Slaughter” in 1958. Barbara Bel Geddes’ performance in “Lamb to the Slaughter” episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents has also received acclaim, with critics noting her ability to shift between a sweet and innocent demeanor to a more understated sinister one as her character’s composed homicidal streak are revealed.
Bel Geddes previously starred in films such as “I Remember Mama” and “Vertigo,” and her appearance in Alfred Hitchcock Presents helped cement her status as a talented actress with a range of skills.
Another actress who appeared in the series was Vera Miles, who starred in the iconic episode “The Perfect Crime” in 1957 and Alfred Hitchcock Presents the very first episode, Revenge. And the episode that I will cover here Don't Look Behind You. and in Part 4 of my series, Death Scene co-starring John Carradine.
Teresa Wright appeared in perhaps 2 of the most enthralling episodes one darkly disturbing and one darkly humorous. And Mildred Dunnock appeared in 3 episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents and 1 episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour. Jeannette Nolan is in 5 of the series and Jessica Tandy appeared in 3. That's a lot of star power in a small box.
Miles had previously worked with Hitchcock in the film “The Wrong Man,” and her appearance in Alfred Hitchcock Presents helped establish her as a talented actress who could hold her own in a variety of roles.
In addition to Bel Geddes and Miles, several other classic Hollywood actresses appeared in the series, including Joan Fontaine, Teresa Wright, Lillian Gish, Mary Astor (who also appeared in the Boris Karloff Anthology series Thriller) Gladys Cooper, Anne Sothern, Gloria Swanson, Anne Baxter, and Bette Davis, just to name a few.
Bette Davis in Out There-Darkness for Alfred Hitchcock Presents S4E16 1959.
Gloria Swanson in Behind the Locked Door S2E22 1964.
Lillian Gish in The Alfred Hitchcock Hour episode Body in the Barn S2E32 1964.
These actresses brought their star power and talent to the Hitchcock series and helped to establish it as one of the most popular anthology shows of the era. When Hollywood wasn't giving them the scripts and not renewing their contracts, they found a chance to continue showcasing their versatility and kept themselves a continuing familiar face with their fans new and old alike.
The success of Alfred Hitchcock Presents helped pave the way for more classic Hollywood actresses to make the transition to television in the 1950s and 1960s. It also helped to establish television as a legitimate platform for entertainment and helped to blur the lines between film and television.
Other actresses who appeared in anthology series in the 1950s include Barbara Stanwyck in “The Barbara Stanwyck Show,” Bette Davis in “The Bette Davis Show,” and Joan Crawford in “The Pepsi-Cola Playhouse.”
These shows allowed actresses to showcase their versatility and reach audiences on a regular basis, helping to solidify their status as Hollywood legends and both critics and fans have praised these actresses’ abilities to transition from film to television
Acting in front of the camera wasn't the only transition powerful Hollywood actresses made, Ida Lupino – pioneering actress, director, and producer, known for her trailblazing work in the male-dominated Hollywood industry of the 1940s and 1950s stepped into the episode of The Twilight Zone with its scathing mediation on the Hollywood system that chewed up actresses and spits them out as they aged out of their perceivably viable roles. In The Sixteen-Millimeter Shrine starring Lupino – the opening narration goes as follows:
The Twilight Zone S1E4 1959 Ida Lupino The Sixteen-Millimeter Shrine.
"Picture of a woman looking at a picture. Movie great of another time, a once-brilliant star in a firmament no longer a part of the sky, eclipsed by the movement of earth and time. Barbara Jean Trenton, whose world is a projection room, whose dreams are made out of celluloid. Barbara Jean Trenton, struck down by hit-and-run years and lying on the unhappy pavement, trying desperately to get the license number of fleeting fame."
Lupino plays aging film star Barbara Jean Trenton a recluse who lived in her private screening room reliving her old movie roles from the 1930s over and over. When she is offered a part in a new movie playing the mother, insulted by the callous film mogul who tells her she's living in the past, all the while Martin Balsam tells her she's wishing for things that are dead"¦ Barbara vanishes into a movie reel with her old co-stars descends the stairs and blows Balsam a kiss goodbye throwing down a scarf toward the camera and vanishes.
Not just on screen but behind the scenes Lupino who worked avidly with the camera directed several of the Hitchcock episodes. Another influential woman in the technical side of Hollywood, Joan Harrison made the transition from film to television. She came on board to produce the show and create the legacy that both series became in American Television.
“Seeing a murder on television… can help work off one’s antagonisms. And if you haven’t any antagonisms, the commercials will give you some.”
“T.V. has brought murder back into the home where it belongs.”
“It seems to me that television is exactly like a gun. Your enjoyment of it is determined by which end of it you’re on.”
“Blondes make the best victims. They’re like virgin snow that shows up the bloody footprints.”
“A glimpse into the world proves that horror is nothing other than reality.”
"What is drama but life with the dull bits cut out."
“I’m sure anyone who likes a good crime, provided it is not the victim.”
“Suspense is when the spectator knows more than the characters in the movie."
"Always make the audience suffer as much as possible."
“I can’t read fiction without visualizing every scene. The result is it becomes a series of pictures rather than a book.”
“I’m a writer and, therefore, automatically a suspicious character.”
“Dialogue should simply be a sound among other sounds, just something that comes out of the mouths of people whose eyes tell the story in visual terms.”
“You think she’s pretty, you ought to see my slingshot!”
Promotional portrait of British-born American film and television director Alfred Hitchcock (1899 – 1980) as he sits on a stool inside an open steamer trunk, next to an unidentified woman in a top hat, short, satin outfit, and fishnet stockings, for his anthology program ‘The Alfred Hitchcock Hour,’ August 10, 1962. (Photo by CBS Photo Archive/Getty Images)
“… I never said all actors are cattle; what I said was all actors should be treated like cattle.” – Hitchcock according to designer Edith Head who dressed Grace Kelly, Doris Day, and Ingrid Bergman in Hitchcock’s movies. The two reportedly clashed heavily over wardrobe ensembles.
"” Alfred Hitchcock
"No one is writing good suspense stories these days"¦ I don't know what has happened to the great story tellers "” people like Kipling and Stevenson. We have to take stories and shape them to our needs. Meanwhile, we must go on. We can't wait for the great ones to show up. I must take the scripts as they land on my desk. I'm responsible for sixteen programs, and I have only seven properties on hand. [Lloyd and Harrison produced all but four episodes from the first season] I've managed to get several fine stories, I believe. One is a gambling tale, A Piece of the Action, starring Gig Young and Martha Hyer. It has bitter irony in it. Another is The Final Yow, in which Carol Lynley plays a nun involved in a search for a stolen statue. It has a delicious twist." "”Norman Lloyd (The Newark Evening News, August 26, 1962)
Here are a few quotes from classic actresses who starred in The Alfred Hitchcock Hour and Alfred Hitchcock Presents:
Joan Fontaine & Gary Merrill in The Alfred Hitchcock Hour episode The Paragon S1E20 1963.
Fontaine and Hitchcock on the set of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour.
“Working with Alfred Hitchcock was a great honor and an unforgettable experience. He was a master of suspense and a true genius of filmmaking.”– Vera Miles
“Appearing in Alfred Hitchcock Presents was a unique challenge as an actress, as each episode was its own story and character. But it was also a great opportunity to showcase my range as an actress.”– Barbara Bel Geddes
“Alfred Hitchcock had a way of bringing out the best in his actors and actresses. He knew how to create tension and drama on screen, and he trusted his performers to deliver their best work.” – Joan Fontaine
“Alfred Hitchcock Presents was an exciting and innovative show, and I was thrilled to be a part of it. It allowed me to work with some of the best actors and directors in the business.” – Anne Baxter
Vera Miles and Hitchcock on the set of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour.
Hitchcock made the shift from a half-hour show to an hour format without much issue. "When we had a half-hour show, we could do short stories"¦{"¦} Now, in an hour, we have to go to novels."His staff read through thousands of crime novels to find the right script. Yet frequently it became necessary to utilize a short story and expand it, in order to fill out the hour.
In the opening set of each episode, the fabulist Hitchcock is given props against an empty stage. At times he himself becomes the prop or main focal point where he imparts either sage elucidation, comical warning, or sardonic advice. A witty prelude to the evening's tale or just a frivolous bit of shenanigans to put one in the mood for the evening's program. As he drolly introduces the night's story, his monologues were conceived of by James B Allardice.
Jessica Tandy in Alfred Hitchcock Presents episode The Glass Eye s3e1 1959.
THE ALFRED HITCHCOCK HOUR — “The Trap” Episode 18 — Aired 02/22/1965 — Pictured: (l-r) Anne Francis as Peg Beale, Donnelly Rhodes as John Cochran (Photo by NBC/NBCU Photo Bank via Getty Images)The Alfred Hitchcock Hour Triumph Episode 9 Aired 12/14/1964 Pictured: Ed Begley as Brother Thomas Fitzgibbons, Jeanette Nolan as Mary Fitzgibbons (Photo by NBC/NBCU Photo Bank via Getty Images)
Patricia Collinge in The Alfred Hitchcock Hour episode The Ordeal of Mrs. Snow -S2E25 1964
Repeat Performances:
*Jessica Tandy 3 episodes Alfred Hitchcock Presents – The Glass Eye and not included Toby S2e6 and The Canary Sedan S3e37.
*Patricia Collinge 4 episodes Alfred Hitchcock Presents –The Cheney Vase, The Rose Garden, Across the Threshold, and The Landlady-Â The Alfred Hitchcock Hour – 2 episodes Bonfire – and not included The Ordeal of Mrs. Snow April 17, 1964.
*Anne Francis 2 episodes Alfred Hitchcock Presents – Hooked and not Included Keep Me Company and The Trap S7e5 Feb 22, 1965, aired Nov.7, 1961.
*Mildred Dunnock 3 episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents – None Are So Blind, Heart of Gold and not inlcuded The West Warlock Time Capsule S2e35 and 1 episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour – Beyond the Sea of Death.
*Vera Miles 1 episode of Alfred Hithcock Presents – Revenge and 1 episode of TheAlfred Hitchcock Hour– Death Scene.
*Margaret Leighton 1 episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents – Tea Time and 1 episode of The Alfred Hitchcock HourWhere the Woodbine Twineth.
*Barbara Bel Geddes – 4 episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents – Lamb to the Slaughter, The Morning of the Bride and not included The Foghorn s3e24, and Sybilla S6e10 aired Dec. 6, 1960.
*Gena Rowlands – 1 episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents – The Doubtful Doctor and 3 episodes of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour – Ride the Nightmare, The Lonely Hours, and Murder Case.
*Doris lloyd 5 epsiodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents – The Impromptu Murder, and not included Dip in the Pool, Safety for the Witness, The Shartz-Metterklume Method and The Silk Petticoat. And 4 episodes of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour – One of the Family, Thou Still Unravished Bride and not included The Dark Pool s1e29, and Isabel s2e31.
*Gia Scala – 2 episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents -Deathmate and not included Mother, May I Go Out and Swim? s5e26 and 1 episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour not included The Sign of Satan s2e27
*Jeannette Nolan –4 episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents – The Right Kind of House, The Morning After, and not included The Young One s3e9 and Coming Home s6e35. 1 episode of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour – Triumph.
*Teresa Wright – 2 episodes of The Alfred Hitchcock Hour – Three Wives Too Many and Lonely Place.
Mildred Dunnock in The Alfred Hitchcock Hour – Beyond the Sea of Death -S2E14 1964.
Teresa Wright and Bruce Dern in Lonely Place The Alfred Hitchcock Hour S3E6 1964
Married American actors Gena Rowlands and John Cassavetes (1929 – 1989) in an episode of the television anthology series ‘The Alfred Hitchcock Hour’ entitled ‘Murder Case,’ January 24, 1964. The episode, directed by John Brahm, was originally broadcast on March 6, 1964. (Photo by CBS Photo Archive/Getty Images)
Alfred Hitchcock Presents renamed The Alfred Hitchcock Hour (between 1962-1965), is a classic American television anthology series hosted by preeminent filmmaker Alfred Hitchcock, the show was also an Alfred Hitchcock Production produced by Joan Harrison and Norman Lloyd, airing on CBS and NBC between 1955 and 1965. The series premiered on CBS in October 1955 and went through several changes during its long run. It switched over to NBC for the 1960-61 season. It then returned to CBS with its hour-long format from 1962-1963. Getting whiplash it turned back to NBC once again to finish out its final season.
"One must remember that in the early half-hour days, we were getting the cream of the crop"¦ Some of the best stories of their type in English literature, such as The Glass Eye. In the latter days of the hour show, however, we occasionally had to develop stories from scratch, and the results didn't always measure up. The half-hour show, which ran twenty-two and a fraction minutes, was sometimes a delight in its brevity and its point, but that doesn't mean it was a better format." "”Norman Lloyd (as quoted in "The Alfred Hitchcock Presents Companion," 2001)
Both series have become seminal works in television history, known for their unique blend of suspense, mystery, and dark humor. The show often revolved around murder plots, mind games, gaslighting, and visceral intrigue, featuring psychological dramas, suspenseful thrillers, and crime-oriented stories often framed through a noir lens and written by celebrated authors featuring a far-reaching cast of Hollywood stars and electrifying performances by beloved character actors.
Both series’ earned a fistful of Emmy, Look Magazine, Golden Globe, and Television Champion awards for the best anthology and/or mystery program during their decade-long run.
Known for its suspenseful and thrilling stories that often revolve around murder, mystery, and psychological intrigue that often framed crime-oriented stories through a noir lens.
"I much preferred writing for the half-hour show"¦ There was always the possibility of doing what I call "˜gems.' The half-hours were compact and full of sharp point-breaking, bringing the audience in at the middle and then hitting them with the climax. Very clean. This got a little difficult to achieve in the hour shows, which were more like features except that they weren't, not really. They were actually more like extended half-hours. More was told about the same thing. I think the show suffered because of it, and I think the Hitchcock people felt so, too.""”writer Henry Slesar (as quoted in "The Alfred Hitchcock Presents Companion," 2001)
Initially, a variety of the stories adapted for the show appeared to be written with the implication that "˜crime does pay if you’re clever and lucky enough to get away with it – clincher. But this did not sit right with the network censors, not to mention Hitchcock's regular derogatory indictment of their commercials which put him at odds with the sponsors. So"¦ by the postscript he would update us on the fate of the villains, evildoers, and culprits to assure us that there was a moral code that existed on the show, and ultimately these malefactors paid a price for their immorality.
In other stories, not all the players were inherently malicious, wicked, twisted, greedy, or conniving. Innocent bystanders and some protagonists were set down in a story that challenged them to come out on the other end of their unnerving or sinister circumstances, and ultimately either found redemption or were delivered from their ordeal. Instead of fate’s unwavering day of retribution, anyone who deserved a break got one, and the sympathetic characters found a silver lining to their storm cloud. Many of the show’s stories, revealed their humanity
The episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents cover a wide range of genres, including crime- drama, mystery, suspense, psychological thriller, and the occasional horror story. Many of the episodes are adaptations of short stories and novels by famous authors, such as Roald Dahl, Ray Bradbury, and Cornell Woolrich, among other notable novelists and screenwriters.
One of the trademarks of the series is its surprising turnaround of events and twist endings, which are often unique, cleverly crafted, and carefully calculated plots that keep viewers on the edge of their seats. The show’s stories often explore the darker aspects of human nature, delving into the psychology of the characters and their motivations. Themes of guilt, paranoia, revenge, and moral ambiguity are often explored, creating a thought-provoking viewing experience, framed with masterful understatement all wrapped up with Hitch’s deliciously droll commentaries, dramatic musical flourishes, and palpable fade-outs.
“Alfred Hitchcock Presents” has been highly acclaimed for its innovative storytelling, compelling performances, and Hitchcock’s masterful direction.
Hitchcock's strictly British sense of humor, the deliciously wicked tone of the series, and his attitude toward directing television had carried over from his big-screen work in a similar vein for small-screen audiences.
At first, Hitchcock was hesitant about the idea of appearing on TV as his primary interest rested with film. Hitchcock biographer John Russell Taylor wrote the revelation Alfred Hitchcock Presents could work came from MCA's Lew Wasserman who had been Hitchcock's former agent and friend. In 1955, Wasserman was putting his mind to potential programming during the early days of television. "We ought to put Hitch on air." The idea of putting the master of suspense hosting a weekly show had a great deal of good sense."
Hitchcock had signed a contract with Richard Decker allowing his name to be the image of a monthly magazine Decker published featuring short stories with a mystery theme written by established or up-and-coming authors. In return for allowing his name to be used Decker hired Hitch's daughter Patricia as assistant editor. The publication would be called Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine.
In the mid-fifties, very few of Hollywood's major studios were actively involved in producing series for television. In 1959 MCA under President Lew Wasserman's leadership added Universal Pictures to its growing list of subsidiaries, and MCA/Revue was changed to Universal Television which then released Alfred Hitchcock Presents.
According to biographer John Russell Taylor, Hitchcock was not pretentious about his success in the motion picture business, however, the iconic director was aware that not many filmmakers who had maintained visibility on his level were actively working in that industry’s medium. While other directors wouldn’t want to be associated with television, Hitchcock had faith in his friend Lew Wasserman and agreed to delve into the world of the small screen, and the series was born.
Alfred Hitchcock named the new telefilm company Shamley Productions after the summer home he and Alma owned in a small village in Shamley Green south of London.
*For most in Hollywood, tv was considered a spurious and unauthentic medium, a commercial junkyard suitable only for unknowns and has-beens." – (from John McCarty and Brian Kelleher from Alfred Hitchcock Presents – An Illustrated Guide to The Ten-Year Television Career of the Master of Suspense)
Wasserman viewed the show and Hitchcock's hosting of it as a logical, intuitive outgrowth of the very successful Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. In fact, many of the series' episodes were adapted from stories that first appeared in the magazine.
And Hitchcock's attitude toward directing television was that it was a bit of jolly devilry and fooling about from directing feature-length films, as it was far less a painstaking endeavor.
Though Hitchcock still brought his methodical work ethic to the table-
"He took enormous pride in doing these things very fast on a tight TV schedule without going a moment over. I remember when he did Lamb to the Slaughter" and he finished on the nose at six o clock quitting time, he turned around and said "there's your picture" Then he looked at everybody as if to say, "So don't comet o me with any ideas that you need an extra hour or two for something else. "It was all in fun, but the message was clear: all of you had better be able to finish at six too." – Norman Lloyd
Vera Miles in the premier episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents ‘Revenge’ S1E1 in 1955.
After its debut on October 2 1955 with the first episode "Revenge" directed by Hitchcock himself, each week gained devoted viewers who were thrilled with the show's sense of the macabre.
Hitchock’s well-known public persona while considered the archetype of genius over collaboration, boldly moved into the realm of television and was part of a team that created an anthology series with a team of extraordinary writers & directors who were perceptive, literate, and witty.
Above are two images of Jessica Tandy and Tom Conway in The Glass Eye S3E1 1957.
Robert Stevens who directed 145 episodes of a similar theme show Suspense which ran between 1949-1954 directed over thirty episodes in Hitchcock’s series more than any other director overall, including some of the most memorable like the chilling installment – The Glass Eye starring Jessica Tandy which is a ghoulish adaptation of the classic theme of the ventriloquist who is bedeviled by his dummy. This installment of the show’s second season earned Stevens an Emmy as best director of a half-hour show. He was the only director ever to win an award for Alfred Hitchcock Presents.
In 1959 Stevens took time to direct the pilot for Rod Sterling’s Twilight Zone with Earl Holliman in Where is Everybody. He did another of the show’s most memorable episodes, Walking Distance.
They helped establish Alfred Hitchcock Presents and The Alfred Hitchcock Hour as one of the great classics of American television – distinctive for their sardonic prologues with Hitchcock as the master of ceremonies conducting the series of sketches, and macabre tableaus that invited you into the evening’s story. Hitchcock intoning impish incentives by writer Jimmy Allardice. The show offered a collection of Mephistophlean teleplays, infused with suspenseful, often darkly humorous masquerades.
The series also features a collection of impressive directors: Ida Lupino, Paul Henreid, Herschel Daugherty, John Brahm, Arthur Hiller, Alan Crosland Jr., Leo Penn, Joseph Pevney, Robert Stevenson, Stuart Rosenberg, Bernard Girard, Robert Florey, John Newland, Don Medford, Francis Cockrell, Boris Sagal, Alf Kjellin and George Stevens Jr.
Hitchcock, Joan Harrison, and actor/producer/director Norman Lloyd preferred stories about unextraordinary people, their lives outwardly not illicit or taboo however they become involved in dubious, unlucky, or dangerous situations like murder, blackmail, or misguided schemes that descend into a darkly ironic conclusion.
Norman Lloyd, whose speech and singularity carved out a niche as typically British and thoroughly sardonically impish appeared in several of Hitchcock's films, most notably Saboteur 1942as the menacing Frank Fry who meets a spectacular cinematic end.
Norman Lloyd in Alfred Hitchcock’s Saboteur 1942.
"Around 1955 they got Hitchcock to say he'd do television which was a big thing. And in '57 the order for the half hour show was amplified, with a new series called Suspicion. I think Suspicion had many shows. Hour shows. And MCA took ten of them. New York took ten and so forth. And with the ten he was adding on they used to do 39 half hour shows a series. It was his producer Joan Harrison, is how I really learned how to be a producer. Divine. She was beautiful, exquisitely dressed, in perfect taste for the set. She was divine. She was a writer for him, and she was now his producer. And they needed someone else to come in an help her because of the quantity of the work not for the half hours, but now the hour. So she and Hitch decided, they wanted me to do it. Cause I also knew Joan very well. And so they presented my name"¦ however"¦ And this was told to me by Alan Miller who headed television at MCA, he came back, Alan Miller from the network and says "˜there seems to be a problem about Lloyd' and Hitch said, "˜I want him!' that was the end of the blacklist!" -Norman Lloyd
The television series also consisted of several episodes that featured both Hitchcock and Lloyd’s daughters Patricia and Josie.
The show is characterized by its Aesopean host- "Televisions jovial undertaker"(McCarty and Kelleher)"¦ offering his solemn "˜Good Night.’
Alfred Hitchcock’s cheeky little teasers featured its iconic musical initiation with Gounod's "Funeral March of a Marionette" as Hitch's silhouetted kisser merged with the quirky little line drawing which was led into one of Allardice's offbeat fun size segues.
Hitchcock emerges mischievously at the beginning and end of each episode, delivering satirical introductions and conclusions, with his signature tongue-in-cheek reaction to that evening’s stories. His dry and sardonic presence effectively compliments the show’s featured parable and displaces any tension from the seriousness of the episode with Hitch’s comic relief.
The show was ravenous for stories trying to compete with its rivals The Twilight Zone and Boris Karloff’s Thriller. The insistence on only published stories.
One of Hitchcock’s primary producers was a British-American film producer, screenwriter, and casting director, Joan Harrison. She met Hitchcock in 1935 after answering his ad in a London newspaper for a secretary. She may have begun her career as a secretary to Alfred Hitchcock in 1939. Harrison gained momentum, forging ahead with her career, and by 1940 she was Hitchcock’s associate producer.
But it was her ultra-motivated astuteness and keen administrative proficiency that helped advance herself until in 1939 she became his closest collaborator co-writing several screenplays for Jamaica Inn, Rebecca 1940, Foreign Correspondent Suspicion 1941, and Saboteur. Additionally working with Hitchcock on several films, including Shadow of a Doubt (1943), Rope 1948 and Strangers on a Train (1951).
In 1942 she pursued her own career as an independent producer, a position not held by many women, then. Much of her films fall under the influence of a mystery bent, with one of her finest films being They Won't Believe Me 1947 a psychological film noir directed by Irving Pichel and starring Robert Young, Susan Hayward, and Jane Greer.
Joan Harrison produced one of the most underrated film noirs Phantom Lady 1944, directed by Robert Siodmak, based on a novel by Cornell Woolwich author of Rear Window, and scripted by Bernard C. Schoenfeld, who would both later write many of the show’s episodes. Another highly effective and sorely underrated noir Harrison directed is Ride the Pink Horse 1947.
In 1944, she left Hitchcock’s production company to start her own, producing several films, including The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946), and The Locket (1946).Â
One of the aspects of both the half-hour and full-hour series’ magic was the brilliant cast, borrowing from some of television’s outstanding dramatic character actors of that period, but notably, the stars who made the transition from the big screen to television’s more intimate venue.
Working with Hitchcock on The Trouble with Harry clearly foreshadowed the direction Hitch’s show was going to take. In 1955 Joan Harrison rejoined him as an associate producer both knowledgeable about mystery and suspense literature – she became actively involved in the story selections.
In 1955, Harrison not only produced the show but she served as the casting director for Alfred Hitchcock Presents for its entire run from 1955 to 1965.
She helped cast some of the show’s most famous episodes, including Back For Christmas, Lamb to the Slaughter, and “Hitch Hike”
Isobel Elsom and John Williams in Alfred Hitchcock Presents – Back for Christmas s1e23 1956.
Alfred Hitchcock Presents Hitch Hike S5E21 1960 starring Suzanne Pleshette, John McIntire, and Robert Morse.
Joan Harrison lends the show its engaging charm which credits Harrison’s keen eye for selecting the best possible actors to fit the archetypal characters for the compelling ironic murder mysteries, nail-biters, and crime-driven stories.
Harrison who progressed from secretary to screenwriter to independent producer signed onto the show where she was fully able to materialize her vision of some of the most suspenseful dramatizations. She retired from the film industry in 1965.
Norman Lloyd started producing and directing a limited number of episodes each season. At this same time, Gordon Hessler was elevated to associate producer.
Gordon Hessler who had a tv background that included a period where he was enlisted as a story editor, director, and production associate also joined the show as a producer. Once Harrison started to phase out her involvement on the show and move back to England with her husband British mystery writer Eric Ambler, she passed it on to Lloyd while he continued to assist as associate producer.
"At the end of this time, there was a rearrangement at Shamley and I was made a producer equally with Joan Harrison. It was also around this time that the show went to an hour. We both produced alternately. Then, for the final two years, I was made the show's executive producer alone."
Eventually, he moved on to directing horror features- The Oblong Box 1969, Scream and Scream Again 1970, Cry of the Banshee 1970, Murders in the Rue Morgue 1971, and The Golden Voyage of Sinbad 1974.
The series often used writer Robert Bloch who began working on the show in 1959 in the middle of its ten-year run. The writer hadn't met with Hitchcock while filming the adaptation of his novel Psycho 1960. Two of Bloch's published stories had been bought for the series and adapted by others before his arrival in Hollywood later that year.
He began adapting his own published stories and his work was dramatized for the series. He was heavily involved in the show and mutually committed to writing screenplays and contributing to Boris Karloff's similar anthology series Thriller both programs produced at Universal Studios.
"Shortly after I began my own work as a novice television writer for a little-esteemed syndication series, I was summoned to Hitchcock's Shamley Production office and offered an assignment to do a script based on Frank Mace's story ‘The Cuckoo Clock.'– Robert Bloch
“Give them pleasure. The same pleasure they have when they wake up from a nightmare.” – Alfred Hitchcock
The role Barbara Steele plays in the legacy of Italian Gothic cinema of the 1960s achieving cult status, is arguably her most recognizable contribution to the sub-genre of the horror film. She’s been christened The High Priestess of Horror, Queen of Horror, and The Dark Goddess, the latter, the implication being her prowess is proof there’s a link between beauty (a woman’s power) and evil. Steele’s persona is suitable as a femme fatale, and the sum of her work is extremely feminist.
According to journalist Maitland McDonagh, she is The Face that Launched a Thousand Screams. She is the sadomasochistic Madonna of the “cinefantastique”; the queen of the wild, the beautiful, and the damned.”
“Of all the stars of horror cinema, Barbara Steele may have come the closest to pure myth {“¦} she suggests a kinky and irresistible sexual allure” – (David J Hogan)
“With goldfish-bowl eyes radiating depraved elfin beauty, and what she calls her ‘old, suspicious Celtic soul burning blackly within, Steele played the princess in a dark fairytale.” ‘They sense something in me’ she once said of her fans, but surely it was true of her directors also. Steele followed with ‘Maybe some kind of psychic pain. The diva Dolorosa of the 1910s, reincarnated as a voluptuous revenant.’ – (from David Cairns and Daniel Riccuito for Sight and Sound)
“Angel Carter (1982) named the three surrealist love goddesses as Louise Brooks first and foremost followed by Dietrich and third Barbara Steele. With regards to Steele however, not all the following descriptions emanate from surrealists caught in the grip of amour fou”(obsessive passion).- (The Other Face of Death: Barbara Steele and La Maschera Del Demonio by Carol Jenks from NECRONOMICON edited by Andy Black)
“The very symbol of Woman as vengeful, alien and “˜other’.” (Nicholls 1984)
“Steele perfectly embodies both the dread and the desire necessary to imply alluring and transgressive sexuality.”(Lampley-Women in the Horror films of Vincent Price)
“It’s not me they’re seeing. They’re casting some projection of themselves, some aspect that I somehow symbolizes. It can’t possibly be me.” Barbara Steele quoted-(Warren 1991)
“You can’t live off being a cult.” Barbara Steele
I saw this obscure chiller during its theatrical release and remember being very effected by its moody, dissonant, and menacing tone. Like many of the horror films that exist in the ether of the 1970s, (Let's Scare Jessica To Death 1971, The Brotherhood of Satan 1971, Don't Look Now 1973, Silent Night, Bloody Night 1972, Lemora, A Child’s Tale of the Supernatural 1973, The Witch Who Came From the Sea 1976, Squirm 1976, The Sentinel 1977, Tourist Trap 1979) this is among those films that left an impression on me.
A supernatural-psychological horror film by director Robert Allen Schnitzer, with cinematography by Victor Milt leads us in a dream state that is not only atmospheric and Kafkaesque it conjures up lucid nightmares for the bright mother, Sheri, and for us.
Raven-haired psychotic Andrea Fletcher (Ellen Barber) has been declared an unfit mother, and unfortunately is released from the mental institution too soon. She immediately goes in search of her little girl Janie (Danielle Brisebois in her first role) who has been adopted by Sheri and Miles Bennett (Sharon Farrell and Edward Michael Bell).
Andrea seeks help from her companion Jude, a former patient at the same hospital, a woeful carnival clown who goes looking for Janie, finding her with her adoptive mother Sheri.
The two wounded souls, Andrea and Jude, restless in their desire to reunite Janie with her birth mother, leads to Janie’s kidnapping. When Andrea snaps, Jude kills her in a fit of rage. Devastated by the loss of her daughter, Sheri has a breakdown and becomes haunted by psychic images of her daughter and Andrea's tortured spirit. Andrea’s insanity reverberates beyond her death and outward like an echo that is picked up by Sheri, whose disturbing visions reveal that she is clairvoyant.
Sheri's husband Miles, an astrophysicist brings in a colleague, Jeena Kingsly a professor of parapsychology, who studies the realms of human consciousness. Kingsly attempts to help Sheri connect to Janie telepathically. The two mothers begin a psychic tug-of-war over the possession of Janie.
Ellen Barber gives a paralyzing performance as the deranged Andrea, volatile and unhinged, she is a dark wraith in her red satin dress and black velvet cameo choker.
The character of Jude is perhaps the most layered. Richard Lynch (The Seven-Ups 1973, God Told Me Too 1976, Vampire 1979 TV movie, The Ninth Configuration 1980, The Formula 1980, Invasion U.S.A 1985, Bad Dreams 1988, Rob Zombie's Halloween 2007) – is an interesting actor, ever present in so many roles, with his interesting angular face, scarred and weathered and blond hair that hangs like a darker archangel, he is oddly sinister-sexy. A hard-working acting in film and television, he is striking often cast in horror and action films, playing odd characters with his unique persona. Schnitzer apparently hired him for his “widely divergent moods” Lynch influenced by legendary mime Marcel Marceau, brought an element of his gestures to the role of Jude.
This is your EverLovin’ Joey saying I had a premonition that you’ll be back to The Last Drive In, very soon! Happy month of October!
Euro art house director Roger Vadim adapted Blood and Roses in 1960, from Sheridan Le Fanu’s Sapphic vampire novella Camilla, setting down in contemporary Italy.
A lonely and bitter young heiress – jealous of her cousin’s engagement to another woman – becomes dangerously obsessed with legends surrounding a vampire ancestor, who supposedly murdered the young brides of the man she loved (IMDb).
The role of Carmilla was cast by Annette Vadim and Elsa Martinelli plays Georgia Monteverdi engaged to Leopoldo (Mel Ferrer). Camilla is secretly in love with Leopoldo. He and Georgia host a costume party to celebrate their upcoming wedding, which includes fireworks, that wind up unearthing the grave of Milarka, who is Carmilla’s ancestor, a vampiress. Milarka now possesses Camilla and designs to corrupt the lovers. Although the film is in technicolor, Vadim shoots his impressionistic dream sequence in black-and-white with red-tinted blood.
The film stoked the theme of the lesbian vampire, though not explicit, the trope gained traction in the late 1960s and 70s with Hammer Studios. Martinelli also appeared in The 10th Victim 1965.
Hayley Mills comes from acting royalty, she is the daughter of great British actor John Mills and the younger sister of Juliet Mills. I happened to have the good fortune of meeting the gorgeous Juliet Mills twice at the Chiller convention here in New Jersey. I have to say that I’ve never met a more kind and gracious actor who has a profound inner glow. Having already been a fan, I’m even more enamored with her.
Hayley was discovered while at her parent’s home in 1958 by director J. Lee Thompson who immediately cast her opposite, of her father in the thriller Tiger Bay 1959. Her breakthrough performance, winning an award at the Berlin Film Festival and being acknowledged in Hollywood by Walt Disney signed her to a five-year contract. There she starred in Pollyanna 1960 garnering rave reviews and a second hit was for The Parent Trap 1961. She went on to do That Darn Cat! 1965 and The Trouble with Angels 1966.
Mills had been offered the role of Lolita in Stanley Kubrick’s film (1962) but her parents warned off the part fearing the sexual nature of the role would taint her iconic image of purity. Sue Lyon was cast in the role instead, but Mills regretted not taking the part.
in Twisted Nerve 1968, Hayley Mills plays Susan Harper who befriends psychopath Martin Durnley (Hywel Bennett) who appears to be a painfully troubled young man, taking on the persona of a six-year-old boy who calls himself Georgie. His mother (Billie Whitelaw) infantilizes Martin. He has a brother with Down syndrome who has been hidden away in an institution. Georgie becomes fixated on the lovely and patiently kind, who realizes there’s something very wrong with Martin who ultimately goes into a murderous rage.
After Twisted Nerve in 1968, Hayley Mills went on to do more psychological thrillers in the 1970s – Once again co-starring with Hywel Bennett in Endless Night in 1972, and Deadly Strangers in 1975.
Anna also comes from acting royalty being the daughter of actor Raymond Massey. She is known for her role as Helen Stephens in Michael Powell’s Peeping Tom 1960 starring Karlheinz Bohm as Mark, a disturbed young man who films women as he kills them with a tripod sword so that he can get off on their reactions of terror. Anna plays Helen Stephans, the one girl that Mark feels a connection.
Once Mark is drawn to Helen they begin to spend time together. In Helen’s innocence, she remains out of danger from his dark, deranged eye on women’s suffering.
She also appeared in Otto Preminger’s Bunny Lake is Missing 1965, the psycho-sexual thriller drenched in paranoia. Carol Lynley reports her little girl missing, but there seems to be no evidence that she ever existed. Anna plays Elvira Smollett one of the teachers at the school where she disappeared.
Massey went on to do two more horror films in the 1970s, Alfred Hitchcock’s Frenzy 1972 and The Vault of Horror 1973 an anthology directed by Roy Ward Baker.
I Wake Up Screaming is the first official noir produced by Fox, directed by H. Bruce Humberstone (he worked on Charlie Chan programmers and B-movies) who was not considered a noir director. With a screenplay by Dwight Taylor based on the novel by Steve Fisher. Eddie Muller said it personified film noir and calls the 1941 film – Proto-noir, as it was the first of its kind.
Darryl F. Zanuck wanted the film’s location changed to New York City, so it wouldn’t reflect badly on L.A. There are a number of sleazy characters involved and he wanted to shift the story from Hollywood to Broadway.
The film was remade as Vicki in 1953 (with Jeanne Crane and Jean Peters, though it lacked the highly stylized artistry) Photographed by Edward Cronjager (Seven Keys to Baldpate 1929, Hell’s Highway 1932, The Monkey’s Paw 1933, Island in the Sky 1938, The Gorilla 1939, Heaven Can Wait 1943, Desert Fury 1947, Relentless 1948, House by the River 1950, The Girl in Lovers Lane 1960) pours out murky noir shadows, darkened streets, unusual camera angles, low key lighting and the high contrast, one-point lighting that illuminates the ink black threatening spaces. The film is stark yet dynamic.
With music by Cyril J. Mockridge, you'll hear the familiar often-used noir leitmotif, the melody Street Scene by Alfred Newman. I Wake Up Screaming stars Betty Grable as Jill Lynn, Victor Mature as Frankie Christopher, Carole Landis as Vicki Lynn, and Laird Cregar as Ed Cornell. The film also co-stars Alan Mowbray as Robin Ray and Allyn Joslyn as Larry Evans. Quirky character actor Elisha Cook Jr. plays Harry Williams the desk clerk in Vicki’s apartment building who’s a real weirdo. William Gargan plays Detective Jerry ‘Mac’ MacDonald.
Cook is great at playing quirky oddballs (Cliff the crazed drummer in Phantom Lady 1944, George Peatty in The Killing 1956, anxious trench coat-wearing Wilmer in The Maltese Falcon 1941, Watson Pritchard in House on Haunted Hill 1959).
I Wake up Screaming bares a resemblance to a whodunit, as the killer is chased down with the story playing a bit of a shell game with us. There are common noir themes of obsession, perverse lust, corruption, and homicidal jealousy. The film also has a preoccupation with images and artifice, tossing up flashbacks like a circus juggler.
Right before model, Vicki Lynn heads to Hollywood to reach for her rising star, she is brutally murdered. Delicious Betty Grable in her first non-music role, plays Jill Lynn, Vicki’s sister, who is drawn to the man (Victor Mature) who is presumably her sister’s murderer.
Vicki functions as an essential part of the narrative early on in the film and is resurrected by way of flashbacks. Frankie knows that while there are images that still exist of Vicki she is no longer present. In fact, Vicki is a myth and a manufactured deception in some ways. Jill on the other hand is genuine, unpretentious, and warmhearted.
Carol Landis who died at 28 from an overdose, plays murder victim Vicki Lynn. I Wake up Screaming backflips into the weeks leading up to her death. The film is also somewhat of a noir variation on Pygmalion, as Victor Mature who plays Frankie Christopher, sports and show business promoter, discovers a beautiful girl waiting tables and gets the hot idea of turning Vicki into a celebrity and society girl. Vicki’s appeal is the sphere of influence that drives the plot. Mature always makes the screen sweat with his sexy brawny build, swarthy good looks, strong jaw line, and the aura of his glistening obsidian hair.
The film opens with a sensational news headline ‘MODEL MURDERED’ Right from the top Frankie is being grilled by the cops in the interrogation room. Burning white hot lights are up close in his face. He says to the shadow of Cornell (Cregar) who's a bulky shadow shot with single source lighting) to his opaque figure, "You're a pretty tough guy with a crowd around.”
The flashbacks begin. Frankie goes back to the first time he meets Vicki at the lunch room on 8th Avenue while eating with Larry Evans (Alan Joslyn) and Robin Ray (Alan Mowbray). Vicki asks "Is that all?" Lary Evans says "No, but the rest of it isn't on the menu." She handles his come on, "You couldn't afford it if it was.” Frankie pours on the charm. He gets the notion to take Vicki and mold her into a celebrity. “You know I bet in 6 months I could take that girl and put her on top of the ladder." Mature and Landis worked together in One Million Years B.C.
Has-been actor Robin Ray (Mowbray) and ruthless gossip columnist Larry Evans (Joslyn) decide to get involved in developing Vicki Lynn’s mystique and cultivate her glamour on the road to fame. Of course, both men wind up having a yen for her. A cynical Ray (Mowbray) complains that all women are alike. Evans (Joslyn) tells him, “For Pete’s sake, what difference does that make? You’ve got to have them. They’re standard equipment.”
Frankie takes Vicki Lynn out into New York cafe society – All three schemers, the columnist, the washed-up actor, and Frankie, bring her to the cafe and make a big noise, grabbing the attention of Lady Handel (May Beatty) who invites them over to her table. In order to give the impression that Vicki will now be a new sensation, Larry Evans brags in front of the table, that he'll plug her In his column. They also think that it’ll help Vicki to get noticed if she’s seen on Robin Ray’s arm. The outing is a success. When they bring her home to her apartment building they meet the squirrely desk clerk Harry Williams (Elisha Cook), who takes his sweet time, getting up for Vicki. Frankie gives him a hard time after being so disrespectful. Williams sneers, “She ain’t nobody.”
Back to the present and Frankie's still in the sweat box. They're questioning Jill too. She’s telling the cops about Vicki’s plans. She’s got, "Grand ideas about becoming a celebrity." They ask about Frankie’s involvement. Another flashback – the sisters are talking about Vicki’s new venture. Vicki tells Jill, "They're gonna glamorize me." Jill tells Vicki that she doesn't trust Frankie’s promises, and apologizes for sounding stuffy. She warns Vicki about having unrealistic aspirations. Flashback even further. Frankie shows up at the cafeteria. Vicki keeps dishing out the wisecracks. He shows her the newspaper article about her making a splash at the El Chico Club.
"Why all the cracks you don't even know me?""I don't know anything about art, but I know what I like." Back in the present day, at the police station. Jill continues to tell the cops how successful Vicki's climb was. Backward once again-
Jill Lynn I don’t want to tell you your business, but don’t you think you’re making a fool of yourself?
Vicki Lynn What do you mean?
Jill Oh, this Frankie Christopher. People like that, what have they got to do with people like us?
Vicki Jill, they’re going to help me!
Jill In what way?
Vicki They’re gonna’ glamorize me. They may have started this thing as a gag, but, after taking one look at those million-dollar debutantes tonight, I realized I can give them cards in spades and still come out on top.
Jill Vicky, you’ll never come out on top by any shortcuts. One week your picture’s on the cover of a magazine, the next it’s in the ash can.
Frankie arrives at the girl’s apartment, and Vicki breaks the news to Frankie that she's going away to Hollywood. She'd done a screen test and signed a long-term contract. He's angry. She went behind Frankie's back after everything he did for her. She defends herself "Some people think I'm a pretty attractive girl. I'm no Frankenstein you know!" Frankie comments, "I wonder."
Jill tells the cops she was pounding a typewriter breaking her fingernails, and Vicki did get the Hollywood contract, so she might have been right about taking the risk with an acting career and becoming a star.
Another flashback The three men are sitting around the bar.
Robin Ray [indignant] Can you imagine her walking out on me, after all that I’ve done for her? Me!
Larry Evans [slightly incredulous] “You’ve” done for her? What have *you* done for her?
Robin Well, I took her out to all the bright spots, I let her be seen with me everywhere… It made her feel important.
Larry Why, you parboiled old ham! You don’t think anybody thought there was anything between *you* two, do you? If it hadn’t been for my plugging in the column, people would’ve thought she was your trained nurse.
Robin Why, you ink-stinking word slinger! I was famous when they were changing your pants 20 times a day!
Jumping to the present again, Jill is still being questioned by the cops. They want to know if Vicki had anyone in her life. Jill remembers a peculiar thing that happened. She tells them she was sitting at the table in the cafeteria waiting for Vicki to get off work. The peeping prowling, Ed Cornell's giant shape stares at Vicki through the window. He has a queer look on his face. Jill maintains her stare, holding her coffee cup, she is unable to put it down as she studies him, uncomfortably. Once he notices Jill catching him ogling Vicki, he skulks away. Mockeridge's score undergoes a sinister change, with emphasis on the rhythmic accents of a classic horror picture.
Jill tells her sister, "You seem to have an admirer there's some guy looking through the window like the wolf looking for the 3 little pigs." The girls are walking on the street, Cornell is leaning against a wall, and Jill points out to Vicki that he's the one. "He gives me the creeps," Vicki says, "You'll have to get used to that, they've got more wolves in New York than they have in Siberia," She tells the cops she saw him several times after in odd places. He never said anything but watched Vicki, it frightened Jill. There was something strange about him, the way he looked at Vicki. Always turning up in strange places. The cops look skeptical about her "mysterious stranger."
The cops think Jill is trying to protect Frankie "I just don't believe he did it, that's all" They ask if she's involved with him, and accuse her of being in love with him and wanting Vicki out of the way. Jill demands to see someone in authority, so they tell Mac to get Cornell. Who walks in? The creep who watched Vicki through the plate glass!
Enter rabid, self-righteous homicide Detective Ed Cornell (Cregar). Once he sets his sights on Frankie he begins to mercilessly hound him to the ends of hell if necessary, going after him with a flaming vengeance, trying to pin the murder on him. Cornell knows that Frankie is innocent but he is determined to persecute him. Cregar made an all too short career out playing imposing characters. He died at 28 in 1944 due to complications from a crash diet, always struggling with his weight, striving to obtain leading man status.
Jill is startled, the room is smoky and this massive shape looms over her with his girth "That's him, that's the man!" They think she's crazy. First, it's a mysterious stranger peeking through windows and now it's Ed Cornell. "That’s my job to look at people." Leaving the dark corner of the sweat box into the smoke factory with Frankie, things become more visible as Cornell emerges as a menacing force. She insists, "I did see you."“Alright Alright, I'm a peeping tom."
Jill Relates what happened on the car ride with Frankie, the night he learned Vicki was leaving, and she tells him he'll be glad to get rid of her because Jill is in love with him. Jill is just covering up her feelings. Frankie says Jill being in love with him, never entered his mind. Vicki is sure, "I know it's much deeper than that. That's why it’s so dangerous. Anything might happen."
Cornell writes down everything on his pad. Jill says that Vicki didn't mean the line about being glad to get rid of her, but he corrects her, “What she meant doesn't count. It's what she said.”
The night Jill found Vicki, as soon as she came out of the elevator she got a feeling something was wrong. There was music blasting from the radio. Frankie was there already – "Jill you don't think I did it, do you?" Jill is in shock.
Cornell goes back into the interrogation room with Frankie and tells him he knows about Vicki’s ‘get rid of me’ statement. The obsessed Cornell comes up with a scenario. Frankie’s mind got more and more inflamed with jealousy and hurt pride. Went up there and killed her in cold blood. Cornell loses his cool and lunges at Frankie, "I've got a mind to kill you right now."When Cornell gets rough, the other cops have to break it up. They all like Frankie and ask if he's got any tickets to the fights. They ask Cornell "What's the idea of riding him, so hard?” "I have years of experience in this racket. If that isn't the look of a guilty man, I'll take the rap myself." The District Attorney winds up getting his back up with Cornell when he focuses so much on Frankie’s guilt.
The District Attorney (Morris Ankrum) apologizes to Frankie. Jill is in the office too and tells him they think they know the identity of the killer. It’s the switchboard operator at the sisters’ apartment building. They think it’s Harry Williams. Jill leaves the police station and Frankie asks why they think it’s Williams. The D.A. tells him, William’s been missing since 5 pm last night, probably hiding out scared and shaky.
Frankie is released and later that night, Mature wakes up to find the huge, menacing Cregar sitting beside his bed, “Well that's the first time, I had a bad dream with my eyes open."“Someday you’re going to talk in your sleep, and when that day comes I want to be around.” The scene hints at Cornell’s repressed homosexual passion.
Cornell tells him he’ll get all the evidence he needs and tie him up like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Frankie unrattled, tells him, "You're the bright boy” and reminds him that they think Williams murdered Vicki. Victor Mature is so smooth, so mellow when he’s playing at being sarcastic, He says, "You're like something out of a museum you ought to have a magnifying glass and one of those trick hats with the ear flaps" Frankie throws Cornell out after he calls him cocky, and has had it his way too long. First with Vicki, then Jill. Cornell’s resentment is showing.
Jill finds Harry Williams who’s returned to the apartment building. She’s moving out, but he has already packed up her bags and taken them down to the lobby. Williams is a suspiciously hollow little insect who Jill finds strange. Frankie meets up with Robin at the police station. The cops show a reel of Vicki singing at a nightclub. Cornell watches her longingly which gives Frankie a window into Cornell’s longing for the dead girl. Cornell looks at Frankie with contempt.
The film of Vicki appears in the dark room filled with cigar smoke that makes wispy clouds float, and the rays of light from the projection booth. The light cast on Frankie's eyes is like an illuminated mask, it accentuates his epiphany "” that Cornell is obsessed with Vicki. He catches something in his stare. The light on Cornell’s face as HE stares back at Frankie, unmasks only half of his face, revealing the duplicity Cornell projects throughout the picture. It’s a brilliantly framed shot by Cronjager.
The film reel resurrects Vicki from the dead, like a ghost haunting the room. Robin Ray squirms in his chair and runs to get out. The door is locked. His behavior hints at his guilt. They put the lights on and bring him into the D.A.’s office. Ray tells them how he felt about her. She laughed at him. Called him "a has-been and didn't want to hitch her wagon to a falling star." He's the one that arranged the screen test but she went down there alone. He is obsolete, they decided they didn't need him. While he talks about her, Cornell looks out the window. Daylight casts patterns from the Venetian blinds that cut across his face. Odd angle profiles tilt the two-shot of Cornell and Mac off-kilter. Ray has an alibi. He was at a sanitarium. Cornell checked it out already and is gleeful that it rules out yet another suspect. He wants Frankie to fry for it. Cornell would have Frankie in the death house by now. “That won’t prevent you from going to the hot chair.”Â
As Frankie is leaving the police station Cornell asks him for a lift uptown "Sure, always happy to oblige a goon"
Ed Cornell [bumming a ride in Frankie’s car] “I’m sorry to have to ask you to do this, but I’m a little short on cash lately. You see, I’ve spent so much of my own dough, trying to build up this case against you.”
Frankie Christopher (Victor Mature) “Well, if there’s anything you need, just let me know.”
Ed Cornell “Oh, I imagine they’ll make it right with me when I bring in the material for your trial. They usually do in these cases. I nick a guy on my own time and send him up to the chair, then I get back pay.”
Frankie Christopher “Must be a great life – like a garbage man, only with people!”
Ed Cornell “I got practically all the evidence I need now. I could arrest you today for that matter, but you might get some smart mouthpiece and get off with life instead of the chair. I won’t be satisfied until I’m *sure* it’s the chair.”
Frankie Christopher “You’re a gay dog, Cornell. You make me feel as if I’m driving a hearse!”
Ed Cornell “Oh, I know your type. I’ve seen hundreds of them. I don’t scare you enough to make you commit suicide, but I worry you just the same. And when the day comes they all act different. Some scream, a few faint, some light a cigarette and try a wisecrack. But it sticks in their throats – especially when they’re hung.”
Cornell shows up at Jill's new apartment to intimidate her. Jill “What’s the good of living without hope?” Ed Cornell signals his own personal torture- “It can be done.” He advises her to just play along, insisting that she’s not even sure Frankie’s innocent. Once he’s left, Jill pulls out a note from behind a framed painting on the wall. It's from Frankie to Vicki, "After what you did last night, the sooner you're out of the way the better it will be."
Frankie takes Jill to the fights and then out on the town. She asks if he ever brought Vicki to the fights, and tells him it’s the first New York nightclub she’s ever been to. The El Chico club, he first took Vicki to. She sees how nice he is without all the flashy bluster and pretense. He's actually very real. Cornell follows them. Frankie asks her why she suddenly called him, "The trouble with you is that you pretend you don't care about things but you do. You were very upset about Vicki’s death weren't You? He tells her he'd like to find the guy, –“Save the State on its electric bill. She was a good kid” Jill doesn't want him to be guilty. "Did you love her?" “No, do you think if I'd loved her I would have tried to exploit her the way I did?… Vicki was pretty, gay, and amusing She had lots to offer and I wanted to put her in the right place on the map. After all, that's my business But when a man really loves a woman, he doesn't want to plaster her face all over papers and magazines. He wants to keep her to himself."
Looking into her eyes, he tells her he’s in love with her. Larry Evans sees them together and calls in the story "Stepping out"¦ Dancing on the grave."
Frankie takes Jill to his favorite swimming spot. It’s a lovely scene, that brings some lightness to the external space in the story. She shows him the note he wrote to Vickie and he asks why she didn’t turn it in to the police. Jill tells him she knew he was innocent and what the note meant, at the moment they were dancing at the nightclub. When they are back at the apartment, Cornell walks in and takes the note. They cuff Frankie. Cornell who is obviously framing him is just waiting for the chance to catch him. Frankie tells him anyone could have written a note like that. He was burned up when Vicki dropped the bomb that she was leaving. He finds out that Cornell has planted a set of brass knuckles in his apartment. Vicki was hit hard behind the ear with a heavy object. The depraved Cornell punches Frankie in the guts. "You're like a rat in a hole."
As Cornell is about to take him downtown, Frankie is on the ground after Cornell’s hostile assault, Jill hits Cornell from behind and helps Frankie escape. Big fat head bullying him, she says.
Frankie proposes, “Mind marrying a hunted man?” She tells him, "Most married men have a hunted look anyway." He tells her his real name – Botticelli, the son of Italian immigrants. Then he shows her how to hide in the city. They duck into an adult movie house, watching the same picture over and over. Then they decide to split up for the time being and she goes to the public library. The cops find her, and Frankie sees them taking her away. The newspaper headline says "Christopher eludes police dragnet." Cornell stalks the streets. Frankie sneaks up on him. "Let Jill go”, and he'll turn himself in. Ed Cornell (Laird Cregar) “I’ll follow you into your grave. I’ll write my name on your tombstone.”"You're not a cop you're crazy trying to frame an innocent man."Frankie throws a tootsie roll at him and takes off. Cornell assures him, he'll eventually get him. Always smirking like the devil.
Cornell tells the D.A. a parable about the African Butterfly and how to trap the male to set the female free. He wants him to let Jill out of her box to lure Frankie. She goes home, sneaks out through the window, and surprises Frankie at the adult movie house. At the apartment, she has found little cards from flowers that were sent to Vicki, and at the funeral. She shows them to Frankie. The message on the cards says, "Because I promised."
They go to Rosedale Cemetery and when he meets the caretaker, Frankie pretends to be a reporter and asks if anybody lately has been around Vicki’s grave. There were many flowers at the funeral, and the caretaker tells him that the grave's been getting flowers each day since she died. Frankie learns where they were sent from, and goes to Keating Florist. It turns out that Larry sent them. Frankie confronts Larry who admits he was with Vicki the day she died. He had promised to send her flowers every day when she left for Hollywood, and he wanted to keep his word. Larry winds up giving Frankie a clue about the killer, and he goes to the old apartment and gets Mac to give him a half hour. He has a strong hunch.
The next scene is ripe with atmosphere when Frankie leans against the wall in Vicki’s old apartment. The lattice shadows fence Frankie in. Harry Williams is sleeping at the front desk. Vicki rings the desk and speaks in Vicki's voice "Hello Harry, this is Vicki" He's visibly shaken. Frankie watches his reaction. His eyes open wider as the buzzing mocks him, "Harry this is Vicki. Why did you do it, Harry? Didn't you love me?" Frankie confronts Williams. “You let yourself in with your passkey and waited for her. You loved her. She panicked and screamed.” Williams admits, “I told the cop that when he chased me to Brooklyn. Cornell knew all along it was Williams. The dirty Cornell told him to just come back and keep his mouth shut. Mac hears the confession. Frankie tells him, he wants 5 minutes alone with Cornell.
He goes to his apartment and finds a perverse and macabre shrine to Vicki. Her image is like a talisman in his suffocating little apartment. He discovers the prominent photograph of Vicki in an elaborate frame. Cornell unaware that Frankie is there, comes in and places fresh flowers underneath the photograph, as an offering. Frankie watches then emerges, "You knew. Why'd you want to fry me?"He tells Frankie, "I lost Vicki long before Williams killed her. You were the one who took her away from me" Cornell wanted to marry her. Had this furnished apartment set up. Bought her perfume. “Til he came along and put ideas in her head. She thought she was too good for me. He could have killed him then.” Frankie puts it to him, "Why didn't ya?""Cause I had the hook in your mouth and I wanted to see you suffer."
Cornell resented Frankie’s closeness to Vicki and inhabits a world that excludes him. In contrast to the suave Frankie Christopher, he is a lumbering and awkward outsider. To Cornell, Vicki will always be as unattainable as the first time he gazed upon her through the window. He was struck by her beauty, but she was completely and forever out of his reach. Cornell is like a lurking monster straight out of a classic horror movie. His uneasy presence lends to a surreal and menacing mood.
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"Wind was there and space and sun and storm"¦ everything's beyond the door."
Fritz Lang's psychological film noir, Secret Beyond the Door (1947) is suggestive of a dream state, from which the characters never quite emerge. The film draws blurry lines between what is latent and obvious desire. The doors are symbolic of the compartmental anxieties within the dark recesses of the mind. Secret Beyond the Door is steeped in metaphor, sunless and surreal, and an evocative score by Miklós Rózsa. Cinematography is by Stanley Cortez, who is responsible for another dream like milieu in Night of the Hunter (1955). It was Joan Bennett, who insisted on using Cortez as cinematographer.
The film co-stars marvelous character actor Anne Revere as Mark’s sister Caroline, Barbara O’Neil, Natalie Schafer, and Paul Cavanagh.
Bosley Crowther, ""¦ Lang is still a director who knows how to turn the obvious, such as locked doors and silent chambers and roving spotlights, into strangely tingling stuff"¦ For all its psycho-nonsense, this film is mildly creepy."
The screenplay by Sylvia Richardson is based on Rufus King’s novel Museum Piece No. Thirteen, and also appeared in the December 1945 issue of Red Book.
Long ago I read a book that told the meaning of dreams. It said that if a girl dreams of a boat or a ship she will reach a safe harbor, but if she dreams of daffodils she is in great danger. But this is no time for me to think of danger. This is my wedding day."“Celia Lamphere
The film opens with a voice-over by Joan Bennett. Celia Lamphere, (Bennett) journeys through her surreal and sleepy addiction to her new husband, architect Mark Lamphere (Michael Redgrave). Celia's obsessed with the suspicion that Mark is hiding hideous secrets, she plans to succumb to his murderous compulsions. But Mark is not the only one with creeping psychosis. Celia herself is driven by a troubled, neurotic psyche that initially drew her to his enigmatic nature.
Celia wanders through a corridor literally and metaphorically, first in a reverie and then a shadowy nightmare. She first meets Mark on a trip to Mexico when she is mesmerized by the power of passion which can drive two men to fight each other to the death for a woman (Donna Martell). "How proud that woman must be to cause death in the streets." She realizes that Mark is watching her excitement in this, his eyes like fingers. At that moment, Celia has a taste for danger. Like Mark, the thrill of death represents a strong aphrodisiac for her.
Celia: Suddenly I felt that someone was watching me. There was a tingling at the nape of my neck as though the air had turned cool. I felt eyes touching me like fingers. There was a current flowing between us… warm and sweet… and frightening, too, because he saw behind my make-up what no-one had ever seen. Something I didn’t know was there.
Throughout the film Celia strays from reality and finds herself adrift within a conscious flowing daydream. Her voice-over shows she is controlled by the intense beating of her heart. She relates the feeling to drowning "When you are drowning, your whole life flashes before your eyes."
British actor Michael Redgrave made his U.S. film debut as Mark. Initially Lang wanted James Mason in the lead role. Mark turns dark and brooding soon after he marries his new bride. He has been married before and his first wife has died under curious circumstances. Also part of the plot is his serious young son David — who blames him for his mother's death.
There is also, his strangely loyal secretary Miss Robey (Barbara O'Neil) who wears a scarf over one side of her face having been disfigured In a fire. One thinks of Rebecca later on. The film co-stars character actor Anne Revere as Mark's sister Caroline.
Celia:Â I heard his voice and then I didn’t hear it anymore, because the beating of my blood was louder. This was what I’d hunted those foolish years in New York. I knew before I knew his name or touched his hand and for an endless moment, I seemed to float like a feather blown to a place where time had stopped.
Mark: You were living that fight. You soaked it all in – love, hate, the passion. You’ve been starved for feelings – any real feelings. I thought: 20th Century Sleeping Beauty. Wealthy American girl who has lived her life wrapped in cotton wool but she wants to wake up. Maybe she can. Celia: Is it as hard as all that? Mark: Most people are asleep.Â
Mark shows all the telltales signs that he is delusional, having a preoccupation with several murder rooms and one locked door #7 in his estate. He's filled with macabre declarations, "I have a hobby collecting "˜felicitous’ rooms", (Celia mistaking the word for happy, not "˜apt' for murder) "the way a place is built determines what happens in it", "certain rooms cause violence even murders."
Mark Lamphere takes his guests on a tour of his murder rooms.
"As an architect Mark Lamphere gives particular credence to the influence of space and human lives. He repeatedly uses the word "felicitous" to describe his theory that elements of particular space make certain human actions possible. And therefor "˜apt' for that locale." "”The Dark Mirror Psychiatry and Film Noir by Marlisa Santos
Redgrave understands how to walk that fine line between innate intensity and male hysteria — one just needs to see his performance as Maxwell Frere in Dead of Night's(1945) segment The Ventriloquist's Dummy, where he wrestles with his "˜dummy partner' Hugo.
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Mark is fascinated by the connection between the action of murder and the significance of his locked rooms as psychological theatre. The film utilizes production design by Max Parker (Chandu, the Magician 1932, Arsenic and Old Lace 1944) who creates a dreamworld of disruptive psychosis. It's within this fairytale steeped in misogyny that Redgrave wants to act out his fantasist murderous impulses. Secret Beyond the Door is a retelling of Bluebeard, the archetype of the serial killer who desires to annihilate women who dominate him. We see a hint of Mark's roiling demons when he takes a group of party guests on a tour of his rooms as curios — original replicas of historic murders. One of his guests, a psychology major, associates the murder of a wife or lover to "unconscious hatred for the mother."
Celia confronts Mark, "It was the way you immersed yourself in those stories you were almost happy about their deaths."
"Probably the most overt Freudian depiction of noir psychosis is found in Secret Beyond the Door, a film that features various re-castings of fairy tale patterns bound up with the psychoanalytic interpretations of childhood trauma and sexual relationships. From the start, the film makes no artistic attempt to submerge its psychoanalysis frame ["¦] all of Celia's fears and desires are open for scrutiny from the time that she first encounters Mark."Â "” The Dark Mirror Psychiatry and Film Noir by Marlisa Santos
She takes a subconscious journey both surreal and substantive as she navigates her new relationship with Mark and her awakened death wish.
During their honeymoon Celia unleashes Mark's sinister urges when she locks the door to their room. This catalyst brings his childhood trauma to the surface. As a young boy he perceived a painful transgression by his mother. His recollection of this seemingly insignificant incident turned into hatred of all women, that has carried throughout his life. These machinations bring him to homicidal delusion. His memories are locked away just as his morbid rooms are show pieces.
Celia embraces her husband's impulses, setting herself up within the replica frozen in time of the death room #7 meant for her. But she desires to unlock Mark's subconscious as well as his locked room.
Celia- "This is my room, waiting for me"
She waits with lilacs, waiting to trespass on the madness that has led him to this dark place. The link between love and death becomes interwoven as Celia prepares to sacrifice herself to Mark if she cannot save him from his tortured sickness. Kelly Oliver and Benigno Trigo cover Freud's fascination with Eros/Thanatos in in their analysis of Secret Beyond the Door, drawing this connection between love and death. Which "according to the film's logic, death is love's uncanny double."Â
"Inasmuch as closed space can be interpreted as "˜cave', "˜the grave', a house, woman"¦ entry into it is interpreted on various levels as "˜death', "˜conception' "˜return home' and so on: moreover all these acts are thought of as mutually identical".-Teresa de Lauretis
Mark's voice-overs wrestle with the urge to strangle Celia if left alone with her. He imagines what he will say when asked if the murder was premeditated. Redgrave is framed within the scene by the prominent energy of his twisting a scarf as if he is preparing to strangle Celia. Holding the scarf, the murder weapon from Don Ignacio's room, his voice-over gives us the sense of the film's prowling subconsciousness.The darker counterpart to Celia's dream-like twists and turns.
Mark:Â There’s something in your face that I saw once before in South Dakota. Wheat country. Cyclone weather. Just before the cyclone, the air has a stillness. A flat, gold, shimmering stillness. You have it in your face – the same hush before the storm and when you smile it’s like the first breath of wind bending down the wheat. I know that behind that smile is a turbulence that…Â
Mark's Freudian Oedipal struggle with hatred for his mother and all women with latent murderous desire is never quite explored as deeply as it could be in the film. In flashback we understand that he has been shut out of his mother's affection in one scene. Though here, murder seems to be an expression of male exasperation, one wonders if this was consequential in creating such a conflicted and disturbed monster?
"The symbolism of shutting Freud's psychological door is present yet after all the Freudian iconography, the basic motivation lies still in the darkness, with one door closed, leaving us outside the "˜Interior turmoil.'" (Marlisa Santos)
*From Women in Film Noir Edited by E. Ann Kaplan
"In the threatening family mansions of the gothic, or in The Haunting's evil old Hill House, a door, a staircase, a mirror, a portrait are never simply what they appear to be, as an image from Fritz Lang's paranoid woman's film' Secret Beyond the Door. The title sums up the enigma of many of these films in which the question about the husband's motives becomes an investigation of the house (and of the secret of a woman who previously inhabited it.)Â
Freud believed dreams were masks that disguised wish fulfillment. They are metaphorical inroads that point to our subconscious desires. And dreams"” like folklore and images in art"” are used as symbolism manifesting these unconscious emotional conflicts. Director Fritz Lang very often infused his films with an appetite for expressionist symbolism. With recurring iconography of doors and corridors, Secret Beyond the Door is perhaps one of his most pronounced visions of Freud's The Interpretation of Dreams cloaked in the cinematic vogue of film noir.
Some Men Destroy What They Love Most!
This is your EverLovin’ Joey saying, there are no secrets between us, here at The Last Drive In! See ya soon!
The subtle gay gangster films of the early 1930s – Little Caesar 1931, The Public Enemy 1931 and Scarface 1932
"Criminals should not be made heroes"¦ The flaunting of weapons by gangsters will not be allowed"¦"
“… the fashion for romanticizing gangsters” must be denounced.
The three films also evenhandedly parcel out social pathology and sexual aberration: homosexuality in Little Caesar. Directed by Mervyn LeRoy from the novel by W.R. Burnett Little Caesar was first out of the gate and an immediate sensation. A diminutive bandit whose single-minded ambition compensates less for his stature than his repressed homosexual desire, Caesar Enrico Bandello is compact, swarthy and tightly wound; his golden boy pal Joe played by the scion of Hollywood royalty Douglas Fairbanks Jr. is tall, patrician and easygoing.
When Joe finds a female dancer and show business success, the jilted Caesar unhinged by a jealousy that dare not speak its name even to himself, makes his first mistakes in judgement. The male triangle is completed by Caesar's worshipful lapdog Otera (George E. Stone) who gazes up at Rico with a rapturous desire that, unlike Rico, he barely bothers to sublimate. Doubly deviant Rico dies for his social and sexual sins, asking in tight close-up and choked up tones, "mother of Mercy, is this the end of Rico?"The famous last words inspired an incisive remark from Robert Warshow on gangster psychology:" Even to himself he is a creature of the imagination" from FILMIC – From Sissies to Secrecy: The Evolution of the Hays Code Queer by Mikayla Mislak
"This is what I get for likin' a guy too much," Rico ‘Caesar’ tells himself after he realizes he’s lost, Joe. Joe, who he has referred to as "soft" and a "sissy." The very pretty Joe (Douglas Fairbanks Jr.) has decided to give up the racket, to be a professional nightclub dancer. Robinson wisecracks, “Dancin’ just ain’t my idea of a man’s game.”
Joe is romantically involved with Olga (Glenda Farrell). ‘Caesar’ is not only jealous of Joe’s relationship with Olga, but he also appears to have no use for women at all.
In the end, there is a telling close-up, a well of tears in his eyes, a subtle quiver in his face. Rico cannot shoot Joe, even though he needs to keep him from squealing. The image of Robinson coming head-on with his feelings reveals his struggle with the repressed love for his dancing pal. The scene is very effective when the camera closes in on Robinson, capturing his dewy, wide-eyed stare. Behind the scenes what helped the intensity of the look of longing turned out to be a serendipitous moment when Robinson had to fire a pistol while looking into the camera, and was unable to keep his eyes open, each time he pulled the trigger. Eventually, they had Robinson’s eyes held open with cellophane tape. The effect worked perfectly.
Another interesting point in Little Caesar that hints at his latent homosexuality is a scene that highlights his clumsy fussiness. Rico is trying on a tuxedo and gazing at himself in the mirror. Posturing gleefully as he swishes at his own reflection. In this scene, Rico also becomes caught in his effete sidekick Otero’s (George E. Stone) gaze, who joyfully watches his boss flit for the mirror.
In The Public Enemy (1931) there is a noteworthy scene when Tom (James Cagney) goes to his tailor to get fitted for a suit. It’s a hilariously fidgety few moments for Cagney while the flamboyant tailor fawns over his arm muscles. When the movie was re-released, the sequence wound up on the cutting room floor.
According to Mislak In Howard Hawk’s Scarface (1932), it could be seen as having a gay subtext, as Antonio ‘Tony’ Camonte (Paul Muni) shows a repressed homosexual desire for his best friend Guino Rinaldo played by George Raft. Hawk’s film doesn’t work on a blatant exhibition of violence, instead, Scarface’s subtlety draws on the subliminal impression of his sexual impulses.
Through my readings, it has been noted that there is a coded gayness inferred from the character of Camonte in Scarface. Rather than the repressed sexual desire for his close friend Guino, I catch more a wind of an incestuous desire for his sister Cesca (Ann Dvorak). Camonte hovers over her with an iron will, not allowing her to have any man touch her. She even alludes to his untoward attentions at one point telling him that he loves her more than just a brother. Camonte (Muni) does focus obsessively over his hair and his wardrobe, which Poppi (Kathy Morely) tells him is ‘sweet’. But there are a few references to Guino being queer. He wears a carnation which is a code for being a gay man in film. Camonte says he’d like a carnation too, takes it out of Guino’s lapel, and tells him “Better no one sees you with this.” He also makes a comment about one of the North Side gang members not being taken seriously because he owns a flower shop! Guino doesn’t show any interest in women until nearly close to the end of the picture, when he submits to Camonte’s sister, Cesca.
“The placement of homosexuality or the real possibility of it in an antisocial context is quite natural. Homosexuality when it is invisible is antisocial. The only condition under which homosexuality has ever been socially acceptable has been on the occasion of its voluntary invisibility, when homosexuality were willing to pass for heterosexuals. Obvious homosexual behavior is reflected onscreen as in real life, only in the ‘twilight world’ of misfit conduct. During the brief period of explicit reference to homosexuals in pre-Code films of the early 1930s. Gay characters were psychologically ghettoized by their routine relegations to a fantasy world or an underworld life….
….in addition to strengthening the Code in 1934, Will Hays reacted to criticism by inserting morals clauses in the contracts of performers and compiling a “doom book’ of 117 names of those deemed “unsafe” because of their personal lives. Homosexuality was denied as assiduously off screen as it was on, a literally unspeakable part of the culture. By 1940 even harmless sex-roles farces such as Hal Roach’s Turnabout were considered perilous in some quarters. The film, about a married couple (Carol Landis and John Hubbard) who switch roles by wishing on an Oriental statue, was described by the Catholic Legion of Decency as dealing with ‘subject matter which may provide references dangerous to morality, wholesome concepts of human relationships and the dignity of man.’ ” –Vito Russo
HITCHCOCK SUBVERTS SUSPENSE!
Hitchcock sensed the ambiguous sexuality in Mrs. Danvers (nicknamed Danny) who embodies the forbidding identity of the coded lesbian in 1940s films. As she strides down the halls of Manderley, there is an element of the angry older woman trope, who is vacant of male companionship by choice, with an added streak of dissatisfied longing. She embodies the sterile matron, showing characteristics of an ‘old maid’ attributed to a repressed lesbian.” Rebecca serves as Fontaine’s idealized mother and that Hitchcock’s films present images of ambiguous sexuality that threaten to destabilize the gender identity of the protagonist.” -(Tania Modleski)
“In typical Hitchcock-ian fashion, the “Master of Suspense” often employed in his films subtle references to gay culture, defying conservative attitudes of the late ’50s.”-Scott Badman & Connie Russell Hosier | February 7, 2017- Editor's note: The following article, like many of Alfred Hitchcock's films, includes references to sex and violence.
Did Martin Landau play a homosexual in North by Northwest? Did Alfred Hitchcock really show gay sex on-screen in Rope, albeit in an unusual way? Was the whole plot of Rebecca driven by the twisted jealousy of an evil lesbian? And, most surprisingly, did Hitchcock depict a gay marriage way back in 1938's The Lady Vanishes?”
Alfred Hitchcock was a complicated man, who put a singular stamp on all his films, infusing them with his droll and macabre sense of humor and imbuing his work from the point of view of a satyr. Hitchcock projects his dark and twisted view of the world as at the end of his films there is sort of a perverted release that he leaves us to contemplate. It also appears that he was playful with the use of his gay-coded characters in many of his films.
Nothing Hitchcock did was unintentional, thereby reinforcing proof that there is a gay subtext to many characters in various films. He was very measured in every detail even before the camera captured the scene. But this method of implying a queer pathology and positing queer elements to the narrative. He was ingenious in the way he veiled his ciphers within the cloak of deniability, in order to slip it by the censors in his cheeky manner.
Though Hitchcock would often imbue his pictures with coded gay characters, among scholars it is still speculative as to which side his view fell on. Given that everything Hitchcock constructed was intentional, it’s easy to see why he would be viewed as homophobic, due to his use of stereotypes that eventually led to queerness possibly being as the source of the crimes. But you have to consider that during the time he reigned, it’s a tribute to Hitchcock that he even embraced the complex issue of homosexuality. It shows me that there was a conscious level of understanding.
In his life, Hitchcock surrounded himself with gay culture be it in England or Hollywood, and he worked with many gay writers and actors. Ivor Novello who starred in two of Hitchcock’s silent pictures was good friends with him and Alma. Hitchcock was also friends with Rope stars John Dall and bisexual Farley Granger who played coded gay characters in the film. Granger also had the lead in Strangers on a Train, co-starring Rober Walker who plays another of Hitchcock’s coded gay characters, Bruno. Anthony Perkins who struggled with his sexuality in real life, plays the ambiguous, stammering, Norman Bates in Psycho. According to Jay Poole, Robert Bloch was interested in ‘abnormal psychology’ and was familiar with Freudian theories on sexual identity. His novel was more suggestive of the taboos, in terms of the incestuous relationship with Norman’s mother and his confused sexual identity.
The assessment of ‘camp’ and queerness can be seen as negative. More contemporary audiences might perceive Psycho as more campy than lurid or scary. Norman’s appearance in the fruit cellar might register with audiences as if he’s a big ugly ridiculous drag queen with a knife. The rest of the film is darkly humorous. (Doty cites Danny Peary)
In contrasting these male characters, one representative of sexually suspect psychosis, the other of gendered and sexual normalcy, Hitchcock blurs the lines between them, creating effects that will inform future depictions of American masculinity… While Lila Crane has been read positively as a lesbian character, and also as Carol Clover’s prototype for the ‘final girl” I demonstrate here that Lila is a more ambiguous figure, tied to social repression and the law. […] (Norman’s voyeurism and Lila’s examination of Norman’s room as pornographic) Infusing these pornographic motifs with addition levels of intensity and dread was the increasingly public threat of homosexuality within the Cold War context in which Hitchcock’s related themes gained a new, ominous visibility. What emerges in Psycho is a tripartite monster-voyeurism-homosexuality-pornography.” — (Scott Badman & Connie Russell Hosier)
WARNING SPOILERS:
Saboteur (1942) producer/writer Joan Harrison wrote the screenplay and collaborated with Hitchcock on many projects for both film and television. In the period of the 1940s to the 1950s, movies often conflated homosexuality with unsavory characters like Nazis, communists, and terrorists.
Saboteur stars Robert Cummings as plane mechanic Barry Kane who is framed for the terrorist bombing of a military installation’s aircraft hanger where they manufacture planes. After he sees his friend die in the explosion, police assume that it was Kane who filled the fire extinguisher with gasoline. Kane goes on the run, to try and find the man he suspects is the saboteur, Frank Fry (Norman Lloyd) who is the real murderer who committed the heinous crime.
Kane stumbles onto a secret group of ‘the firm’, 5th columnists who are plotting to sabotage key targets, military planes, ships, and dams. Kane is dropped into the middle of a cabal of dangerous Americans who have infiltrated positions of power in order to carry out their nefarious plan to disrupt the democratic system and cause chaos. Socialite dowager Mrs. Henrietta Sutton (Alma Kruger) is a New York philanthropist who provides cover for the ‘firm’ run by Otto Kruger as the coldly, sinister Tobin. Kane pretends to go along with the group, and in one scene in a taxi with Alan Baxter who plays Mr. Freeman, there is a queer exchange between the two. Freeman tells Kane about his two little children, one of them is a boy, whom he wishes was a girl. He’s letting his son’s hair grow long and hesitates to cut it. Then he shares his reminiscence about his boyhood when he had glorious long blonde curls. Kane tells him to cut his son’s hair and “save yourself some grief.”
Purely by Hitchcockian fate, Kane is thrown together with Pat (Priscilla Lane) who comes to his aid and at one point tries to distract Fry at the top of the Statue of Liberty. The beautiful Pat flirts with Fry in order to stall him until the police get there, but he isn't the slightest bit interested in her at all. In fact, he seems annoyed by her presence. He's a slim effete figure, a swishy loner with a serpent-like grin. Theodore Price, in his book ‘Hitchcock and Homosexuality (1992), has no doubt Fry was gay. (Ken Mogg 2008)
Saboteur climax prefigures that of North by Northwest between Thornhill (Cary Grant) and the sinister Leonard (Martin Landau) who is also a gay Hitchcockian figure.
We first hear a remark spoken by socialite Mrs. Sutton (Alma Kruger) when Barry (Kane) is taken to the saboteurs’ New York lair, as Barry enters the upstairs room. Mrs. Sutton is addressing a couple of her male colleagues, whom she reprimands: ‘I have to hover over you like an old hen.’
This is precisely the line Hitchcock uses in Rebecca to characterize the somewhat de-natured estate manager Frank Crawley (Reginald Denny) – nearly all the men in the film are so afflicted – and will be used again in The Paradine Case to characterize the gay Latour (Louis Jourdan).
Frank Crawley is ‘as fussy as an old mother hen’; Latour, we’re told, had been ‘like an old mother hen’ to his beloved master, the blind Colonel Paradine.- Ken Mogg (2008)
In North by Northwest (1959) Martin Landau’s character Leonard, displays an undercurrent of homosexuality, that is subtly implied. He’s a devoted bodyguard whose gaze on his boss, Phillip Vandamm, seems to be bubbling with a refined sensibility, romantically fixated on Vandamm (James Mason), a communist spy being hunted by the CIA. For a 1950s film, Leonard’s immaculate fashion sense and his fastidious swagger are a cue of his being queer. Nearing the climax of North by Northwest, the telling scene set in a mid-century modern house reveals Leonard’s love for Vandamm. Hitchcock even sets up the motive for Leonard shooting the object of his affection, jealousy, and rejection. In a notable line toward the end of the movie, Leonard remarks, “Call it my woman’s intuition” affirming the effete stereotype of a feminine gay man. Vandamm is genuinely flattered (contrary to homosexual panic) by Leonard’s feelings, which hints at his motivation for killing the thing he loves. Vandamm (Mason) tells him in that coldly sober tone of his, “I think you’re jealous. I mean it, and I’m very touched. Very.” As Scott Badman & Connie Russell Hosier point out, Hitchcock’s direction shows a “progressive perspective for its time but so brief that it doesn’t fully register with most viewers. Much later, Landau acknowledged that he played Leonard as a homosexual, albeit subtly.”
From the opening of Strangers on a Train (1951), Hitchcock frames the entranceway to the story with a close shot of the main character’s shoes walking to catch the train. Bruno wears elaborate wing tips with high heels and Guy wears a more toned-down fashionable pair of shoes, which are in opposition to each other and illustrate the contrast between the two main characters.
Robert Walker’s Bruno is a menacing, creepy guy with flashy ties, who positions himself after a chance meeting on a commuter train, to assert his influence over famous tennis player, Guy Haines (Farley Granger). Bruno begins to flatter Guy and insinuate himself by sharing his knowledge of Guy’s personal life. He is very proud of the tie that his mother gave him. It is a garish accouterment dappled with lobsters. Like his silken smoking robe and another tie with the name, Bruno embroidered on it. Bruno also spouts a lot of ‘ideas’ he has in that ever prompted mind of his, when talking about Guy’s upcoming divorce and bigamy scandal, “I've got a wonderful theory about that."
Bruno insists on Guy having lunch with him, “sent to my compartment… You see you'll have to lunch with me.” It is obvious, though Hitchcock is very subtle about broadcasting the cues, that Bruno is wooing Guy. Bruno is very effeminate in his demeanor, you could say that he has a ‘flaming’ air about him, always dropping hints about his sexuality. “My father hates me”, insinuating that he is not the kind of man he expects of him. “I've got a theory that you should do everything before you die." He tells Guy amorously, “I like you, I’d do anything for you.”
Bruno Anthony’s plan is for both men to exchange for each other’s murders. There are several scenes that scream Hitchcock’s gay coding. Initially, when the two men meet each other on the train, Bruno is flirtatious, dressed in ‘flamboyant clothes’, which to gay audiences, is seemingly clear to be a gay pickup. Bruno’s not only attracted to the handsome Guy, but he is in fact stalking him as an ‘object’ to fulfill his needs and be his ‘partner’ in his deranged homoerotic plot.
His mother, Mrs. Anthony (the wonderful character actor Marion Lorne) does Bruno’s nails and dotes on her son. As Bruno tells his mother, he wants his nails to look right.
Homosexuality is not explicitly stated, but there is too strong an import for critics and audiences in the know, to ignore. And, considering Hitchcock’s fascination with homosexual subtexts, it’s not a stretch to read into various scenes this way.
There is also the insinuation that Bruno has some serious mother issues, which is one of Hitchcock’s points of reference for his gay coding, such as his use of it with Norman Bates in his film Psycho. Bruno amuses himself by antagonizing his mother (Marion Lorne) who is completely in the dark about the twisted pathology of her homicidal son.
Bruno has set up a visit from Guy who finds himself talking to the sociopath, who’s been waiting for Guy while lying in bed in his silky pajamas. Is this actually arranged as a bedroom seduction?
Another brief sequence takes place at the end which centers around a carousel, a possible symbol of fluid sexuality, and sexual foreplay. The scene shows Bruno and Guy wrestling with each other, the movements could be read as Bruno really achieving what he wanted, to have sex with Guy. Hitchcock even cut different versions of the movie for Britain and the U.S., toning down the implied homosexuality in the American version "” proof positive that he was fully aware of the gay implications in his movies. –(Badman and Hosier)
Hitchcock’s Rope (1948) is based on the play by Patrick Hamilton Rope's End is perhaps one of the more obvious coded gay films with homosexual subtexts in his canon. Arthur Laurents, who eventually came out of the closet and wrote the screenplay, said during a commentary “What was curious to me was that Rope was obviously about homosexuals. The word was never mentioned. Not by Hitch, not by anyone at Warners. It was referred to as ‘it’. They were going to do a picture about ‘it’, and the actors were ‘it’.”The original British stage play was loosely based on the sensational true crime committed by Chicago students Leopold and Loeb in 1924, who killed a fellow student, just to see if they could get away with a motiveless crime. The script was penned by Arthur Laurents in collaboration with Hume Cronyn and Ben Hecht.
Brandon (John Dall) and Philip (Farley Granger) are entitled, affluent snobs, who are self-aggrandizing psychopaths with a Nietzschean superiority. Hitchcock arranges a taut stage play, around a case of Folie à deux. Brandon and Philip are implied coded lovers, who used the crime of murder to stimulate each other as if it were a sex act. The intellectual discourse they have at the beginning of the picture is overshadowed by the sexual banter that precedes what ultimately will become the act of committing a murder. Rope from the beginning of the picture inaugurates a very feverish sexual undercurrent.
In real life, John Dall was gay but died in 1971 without talking openly about his homosexuality. Farley Granger was bisexual when making the movie and then was in a lifelong gay relationship starting in 1963. Alfred Hitchcock was well aware of the sexual orientations of both actors and was reportedly pleased with what is now called the on-screen "chemistry" between the two.
He coded Brandon and Philip as gay by their "sex scene." It occurs at the very beginning of the movie, which is also the murder scene. Hitchcock is strongly equating murder with sex. The murder-sex occurs behind curtained windows. The death scream corresponds to the orgasm. Now visible, the murderers Brandon and Philip quickly put the body in a cabinet and go into a postcoital exhaustion. Philip doesn't even want the light turned on. In an inspired touch, Hitchcock has Brandon light a cigarette, a standard Hollywood indicator for "we just had sex." – (Badman and Hosier)
The unorthodox murderers throw a dinner party with the victim stuffed inside an antique trunk. The film was initially banned in Chicago and other cities, because of its implied homosexual relationship between the two killers. In 1959, the story was revised as Compulsiondirected by Richard Fleischer scripted by Richard Murphy, and based on the novel by Meyer Levin. Compulsion remains closer to the actual true-life crime, and the implicit queer undertones are brought more to the surface, with less of Hitchcock’s cheeky innuendo.
Hitchcock employs many homoerotic symbology and allusions, as the couple reenact the murder, with the director conflating violence and sex. For instance, Brandon gets a bottle of champagne still invigorated by the murder, while Philip the weaker of the murderous pair, is nervous. Brandon fondles the bottle of champagne as the two stands close together very intimately. He grasps the champagne bottle as phallus and flirts with the top of the bottle, yet not releasing the cork. All this is stages as foreplay. Philip finally takes the bottle from Brandon and liberates the cork. They then toast to their victim. Film Critic Robin Wood asserts, in The Murderous Gays: Hitchcock’s Homophobia, that these films could be made as more positive or sensitive to homosexuality rather than “traffic in homophobia” and that it perpetuate the notion that homosexuality leads to violence.
Psycho (1960)
Psycho works as a warped adult fairytale about getting lost and paying for one’s transgressions. Marion Crane (Janet Leigh) is a Phoenix secretary who embezzles forty thousand dollars from her employer’s client and goes on the run. Marion is also shown to be a fallen woman, a sexual deviant herself with no morals, not only is she a thief but she is also having an affair with a married man Sam Loomis, (John Gavin). Driving in torrential rain, she pulls into the Bates Motel, an eerie, remote motel off the beaten path. The motel is run by a ‘queer’ sort of young man, Norman Bates (Anthony Perkins) who lives up in the brooding house on the hill, under the dominant authority of his cruel and elusive mother. As Poole puts it, Norman “remains locked in a disturbed world, and, as the film progresses, becomes murderously mad.”
Norman Bates: “A boy’s best friend is his mother.”
Norman is not a masculine figure, he is a mama’s boy who does his mother’s bidding. He is continually identified with his mother and, according to Freud and his psychological tunnel vision, would probably have evolved into a homosexual because of his Oedipal desires. Hitchcock perverts Freud’s narrow theory, by making sure the narrative shows Norman to be attracted to women, not men. It is when Norman’s arousal by the female body, that he dresses in frumpy dresses to represent his mother, who then takes over and annihilates the object of Norman’s desire. Many viewers assume that Norman is a repressed homosexual because he dressed in women’s clothing when manifesting his mother’s personality. Cross-dressing was stereotypically associated with homosexuality, however, Hitchcock’s film tries to make it clear that Norman is attracted to women from the very beginning with the seductive Marion. The concept of fluid sexuality was not understood in 1960, so conflating cross-dressing with homosexuality was a commonly misleading view.
Norman Bates: “People never really run away from anything. The rain didn’t last long, did it? You know what I think? I think that we’re all in our private traps, clamped in them, and none of us can ever get out. We scratch and we claw, but only at the air, only at each other, and for all of it, we never budge an inch.”
Marion Crane: “Sometimes we deliberately step into those traps.”
Norman Bates: “I was born in mine. I don’t mind it anymore.”
Psycho, is the first of Hitchcock’s films to break tradition from his usual cultured mystery/suspense tropes. He decided to present this narrative using a pallet of B&W to set up a different tonality. Without the use of the vivid colors that he often used with cinematographer Robert Burks. Psycho deals with a more graphic, monochromatic, psycho-sexual sickness. A sickness that erupts in unprecedented perversity and violence for the director. Hitchcock also kills off his heroine in the first 20 minutes of the film. Psycho, will forever be known for ‘the shower scene.’
It also brings to the screen one of THE most hauntingly intense scenes that will remain in the collective consciousness, for what it lacks in vivid bloodshed, it possesses an uncomfortable voyeuristic gaze that brings us into Norman’s mind with the twists and turns, it assaults us, because of its deeper brutality, a more queasy feeling of psychic angst and inverts our gaze, as Marion stares back at us with her lifeless eyes.
“It’s not like my mother is a maniac or a raving thing. She just goes a little mad sometimes. We all go a little mad sometimes. Haven’t you?”
In the 1950s into 1960 was a time when Americans were seeking out the American ideal, and cultural conformity. It was also a time when many audiences did not explore alternative sexualities and would have conflated homosexuality with a deviant and dangerous personality. Poole suggests “Hitchcock queers the image of sexual purity but reinforces naturalized heterosexuality as the film progresses… Hitchcock utilizes the Freudian explanation of homosexual development in his explanation of Norman’s development as a psychopathic killer despite Norman’s apparent heterosexual orientation.”
Hitchcock believed he made the perfect choice in casting Anthony Perkins as Norman Bates, the homicidal misfit who put on a dress and wig to embody his cruel mother. Norman became a serial killer with a fixation on his castrating mother because she dominated his life and turned him into a monster. Perkin’s himself soft-spoken, androgynous, even perhaps a slightly effete actor. Alfred Hitchcock envisioned another gay character whose inherent corrupted humanity stems from their conflict of being queer. By queer, it can refer to the process of shattering normalcy and vision from the perspective of a heternormative lens. Psychotakes the audience into a place of dis-ease, where seemingly ordinary people are capable of monstrous acts. If Hitchcock’s film is subverting the value of 1950s America, and the transgressive content of Psycho breaks from societal norms, then it can be read as a ‘queer’ film.
[voiceover in police custody, as Norman is thinking]” It’s sad, when a mother has to speak the words that condemn her own son. But I couldn’t allow them to believe that I would commit murder. They’ll put him away now, as I should have years ago. He was always bad, and in the end he intended to tell them I killed those girls and that man… as if I could do anything but just sit and stare, like one of his stuffed birds. They know I can’t move a finger, and I won’t. I’ll just sit here and be quiet, just in case they do… suspect me. They’re probably watching me. Well, let them. Let them see what kind of a person I am. I’m not even going to swat that fly. I hope they are watching… they’ll see. They’ll see and they’ll know, and they’ll say, “Why, she wouldn’t even harm a fly…”
As ‘Judith Butler’ Gender scholar, and ‘Hall’ speak of gender as performance, Hitchcock was clear in the way he developed Stephano and Bloch’s central characters in Psycho. In the final scene, the murderer is revealed and his inner monologues keep hidden, the source of a disturbed, untroubled ‘victim’ of faulty psychological development.’ The opening montage sets the scene for the dark thing that takes place inside ordinary towns and inside the minds of ordinary people. (source: Poole)
Psycho was a vehicle that queered what the public had come to expect from Hitchcock films, and,much like its real-life inspiration (Ed Gein), it queered the notion that America was a place where ‘normal,’ was defined as a quiet, safe, small town life, free from the darkness that lurds in modest roadside motels… With Psycho, Hitchcock abetted by Stefano’s script, would shock audiences with sexual innuendo, apparent nudity coupled with a sadistic stabbing scene. Perhaps most shocking of all, he would leave audiences wondering what might lie below the surface of family, friends neighbors and themselves.” (Jay Poole)
Rebecca (1940), was not one of Hitchcock’s favorite films at all. Adapted from the Gothic novel by Daphne du Maurier, the sick soul here is a menacing lesbian. The formidable Mrs. Danvers ( played by the equally formidable Judith Anderson) is the head Matron of Manderley, living in the shadows of the former Mrs. de Winter. She is a lovesick sapphic with an unnourished desire for her dead mistress, Rebecca. Manderley itself is like a hollow mistress that consumes those inside its ominous hallways. ‘Danny’ resents the new Mrs. de Winter and in one revelatory scene taunts her (Joan Fontaine) trying to drive her to suicide through her cruel torments. She parades Rebecca’s lingerie with a lustful smirk on her diabolical face, running her hands under the sheer, delicate fabric as if she were fondling Rebecca herself.
Mrs. Danvers’ jealousy of Maxime de Winters’ new bride is driven by obsession, a lesbian-coded manifestation, one of jealousy and sexual desire. For Joan Fontaine’s character, Danvers reenacts through storytelling, all the attention she used to lavish on her beloved mistress, running her bath, brushing her hair, admiring the finery of her monogrammed pillowcases. Though Rebecca is only seen as the painting of an alluring woman her ghost haunts Manderley and the new Mrs. de Winter.
In Hollywood movies of the 1940s, coded lesbian characters were far less common than coded gay men. Portrayals of lesbians might define them as dangerous and threatening, as is the case with Mrs. Danvers. Mrs. Danvers implies that she had been married. This allowed Hitchcock's deniability against Judith Anderson’s lesbianism But Mrs. Danver’s eventual demise is brought about by her inability to accept Rebecca’s death or allow anyone to replace her love. And so her desire consumes her literally, in fire.
The Lady Vanishes (1938)
When I first saw Charters (Basil Radford) and Caldicott (Naughton Wayne) in The Lady Vanishes my radar went off like a firehouse siren during the scene where they are both sitting up together in a small bed, one wearing the pajama tops and the other wearing the bottoms, (giving the appearance of both being naked in bed. It was such a marvelous coded moment and I knew they were a loving married gay couple. I found it so refreshing to see the British comedy duo playing a cheeky proper English couple who are cricket fanatics trying to get back to London while the Hitchcockian espionage is happening under their noses.
I enjoyed their farcical vignette about a pair of golfers, the one comedic entry in an otherwise moody collection of ghost stories- Dead of Night (1945) which like The Lady Vanishes, also stars Michael Redgrave.
Hitchcock excelled at getting fine performances from his supporting cast members. They usually are finely honed characterizations portrayed by perfectly cast actors, fascinating and funny, imbued with his dry British humor. Charters and Caldicott are wonderful examples. Played by Basil Radford and Naunton Wayne, two fine stage actors who reprised these characters in subsequent movies and BBC radio programs, Charters and Caldicott follow a long tradition of comedy duos of older men in British Music Hall, vaudeville and stage performances. Most audiences of the time, especially British audiences, would have interpreted their relationship simply as one between eccentric, middle-aged bachelors. (Badman and Hosier)
Though there are so many elements of the duo that is ambiguous, Hitchcock imbues Charters and Caldicott with an affection and closeness that reads like a positively coded gay pairing. The two aren’t played as stereotypically flamboyant or campy. Later in the movie, Charters and Caldicott are heroic in facing down danger, during an onslaught of gunfire by fascist spies.
Charters and Caldicott are stranded at the only hotel in a tiny alpine village. The desk clerk informs them that they must share the maid's room. When they meet the voluptuous Germanic blonde, they glance at each other with an expression that appears to be saying they’re not interested. When they follow the maid to her cramped room, Charter cracks “It’s a pity they couldn’t have given us one each” which could be interpreted as each having their own woman, to have a bit of a romp with. But Charters clarifies himself by saying he meant two rooms. One for the maid and one for them. A mainstream audience could read their conduct as two heterosexual British gentlemen, but if you read between the lines, it is suggested that they have no interest in women. In another scene when the maid enters their shared room without knocking, both men act startled by the intrusion. Caldicott moves in a way that conjures up the role of a protective mate. Once she leaves, Caldicott locks the door.
A master of queering the screen, Hitchcock plays with sexuality using his skillful methods of innuendo and artful suggestiveness "” In an already masterful way of blurring the lines of reality and adeptly flirting with transgression, Hitchcock's milieus are perfect playgrounds for coded gay characters.
